“Sounding better, except for the serial killer part.”
Tessa laughed. “Okay, let me take one last shot at perfection. There is no one I’d rather get to know than you. I’m sorry I messed up our Christmas and New Year’s. I promise to make it up to you in February.”
“Sounding…best,” David said. There was a moment of silence, and David spoke again. “I don’t completely understand how a vacation in Australia is therapeutic for you, Tessa, but I believe that you believe it is.”
“I just need for you to accept that it is, and trust that it’s something I have to do.” Tessa took a long breath and thought about her words very carefully. “I care about you David, and I want to see if there’s anything more than friendship. But I can’t do that until I’ve dealt with some personal issues, issues that I’m getting help with in Australia. I know that sounds…cryptic. But it’s true.”
“And you’ll be ready after Australia?”
“Yes.”
“Then you better get packing. You have a plane to catch.”
***
Tessa thought she was prepared for a long flight. She’d been to London and Paris, significant flights, but not really that bad. She’d managed an eleven-hour flight to Buenos Aires once, and conceded that by the time the wheels touched the tarmac she was thoroughly ready to be off the aircraft. But Sydney? Apparently, it was not just on the other side of the world, it was in another world altogether. That her field therapy was so far away was her own fault; she had told Carmen that she wanted to go someplace warm and far from New York. Carmen had certainly delivered.
Twenty-one hours after boarding a 747 at JFK, Tessa touched down in Sydney. She’d slept very little, despite the relative space in business class, and she felt grubby and disjointed, as though her brain had been ejected somewhere over the Pacific. She emerged from customs weary and worn, relieved to see a limo driver holding a large sign that read, Tessa Donovan.
“Let me get your bags, Ms. Donovan.” The driver had a warm Australian accent and Tessa perked up. She handed over her carry on and forty-nine pound suitcase and settled into soft backseat leather while the driver loaded her bags into the trunk.
“You’re staying at the Westberg?” The driver was behind the wheel and preparing to merge into traffic.
“Yes. I can find the street address if…”
“No worries, ma’am. I’ve got it.” The driver glanced into the rear view mirror and caught Tessa’s eyes. She had not handed over all her bags; there was one under each, puffy eye. “Long flight, eh?”
“I don’t think the moon flights are any longer. I’m happy to have my feet on the ground and a shower and bed sound really good right now.”
“I’ll have you there before you know it.”
As much as Tessa wanted to take in the sights of one of the great cities in the world, she was snoring by the time the driver pulled up to the Westberg. With the assistance of the bellman and a very pleasant desk clerk, Tessa was settling into her room on the 22nd floor before she was even fully awake.
“You’ve got a great view of the city,” the bellman said, as he opened the blinds to reveal a breathtaking view of Sydney. “You can see a corner of the harbor,” he pointed to a patch of dazzling blue. “In fact,” he walked from the window towards the bathroom, “you can even enjoy your view while soaking in the tub.” The bellman pulled a drape from inside the bathroom and Tessa laughed. The wall between the bedroom and the bath was glass. The oversized tub was positioned against the glass wall so that one could gaze at the Sydney skyline while soaking in the tub.