Eddie winced as he threw a grim look into the rearview mirror. “I know what you’re talking about, but that’s not a word we still use, so I’d prefer you didn’t out of respect.”
Eliza flushed. “I’m so sorry—”
“That’s okay, now you know. If you want to learn, then I’ll tell you. It’s a word based on misunderstanding—it was used to explain something it wasn’t, and then painted a picture of people who weren’t like that. It was more than just some mythical trek, and it wasn’t wandering around on the land as if you were lost. A journey always had a purpose.”
Eliza pressed on. “So what was this”—she held back the word that had clearly offended her host and scrambled to find an appropriate one—“journey? It wasn’t this idea that you would go into the desert and discover who you are? Being surrounded by your thoughts and being stripped away until you discovered who you are?”
Lincoln sniggered. “I think I went to a Tony Robbins seminar that sounded like that.”
Eddie fixed his gaze on her in the mirror. “I’m glad you asked, Eliza. Not enough people do.”
“I think it sounds fascinating. I’d like to do one.”
Eddie tapped his fingers on the wheel. “Most people tell us that getting away from their mobile phones or their emails for a week is more than enough to refocus.”
Surely there had to be more. “Do you have any other traditional ways of finding yourself or discovering who you are?”
Eddie shared a look with Sloaney. “A couple. We can talk about that around the fire if you’d like. The fire is a good place to talk. It brings people together and brings conversations out into the open. And I’d be more than happy to keep talking about the people of the land as much as the land itself.”
Good, she could talk further with them, and she would make better use of her time than simply being away from technology. Even if she could learn some techniques, she’d be grateful.
Eliza flicked her gaze from the ruled line between sky and earth to the one separating black road from red earth. The colors melded as her eyelids grew heavier, and thanks to the droning of the tires, she succumbed to her body telling her it was still the middle of the night.
* * *
Lincoln riffled through the Australian currency tucked away in his wallet, a rainbow of red, purple, blue, and gold. Such a difference to the greenback. He held a note up to the light. There were even little windows on it, almost as if a helpful country wanted to help you see who was coming to steal your cash. Lincoln turned the bill over in his hand. Unfamiliar faces. A couple of women. “You’ve got really colorful money. Who are these people, past presidents?”
Sloaney laughed. “We don’t do presidents over here. These are famous Aussies.” He turned and pointed to the blue note. “The ten-buck note? Banjo Patterson, one of our great poets.”
Eddie spoke to Lincoln via the rearview mirror. “The fifty has a black fella on it. David Unaipon. Preacher, author, inventor. Very smart guy.”
Lincoln inspected the mustard-colored note. “We have politicians and great leaders on our money. Why don’t you have any on yours?”
Sloaney grinned at him, a twinkle in his eye. “The minute we have any, we might do that. Anyway, there’s no need for your money out here. Nowhere to spend it. And besides, you’ve already paid for the trip. So what about you? Married? Kids?”
“Was married.”
Sloaney looked first at Eliza, then Bree. “Tough break.”
Eliza flinched in her seat. Was she asleep?
Eddie chuckled. “I thought you two must be couples.”
Lincoln laughed. “No, old college friends. When we graduated fifteen years ago, we promised we’d reunite and do something special.”
“Well, thanks for picking us. You must be pretty good friends to still be in touch all these years later.”
“I guess so. Good to see everyone again.”
Eddie nodded. “Good man. What do you do?”
Lincoln puffed up as the conversation moved into his wheelhouse. “I’m a stockbroker in San Francisco and about to make partner.”
“Good on ya.”
A silence settled over the drone of the tires and Lincoln was disappointed at their lack of enthusiasm. “So stockbroking is a trillion-dollar industry of investments in—”
Sloaney raised a hand. “We know. We might live in the middle of nowhere, but we don’t live in mud huts. So what do you hope to get out of this trip? Seeing as you’re the guy who booked the tour.”
“I’m into anything that makes your heart race, so I’m keen to go rock climbing or whatever else you guys do for fun out here.”
Eddie winked at him. “We could do that. What about the others?”
“They’re up for everything, especially Andy. He’s more of an adrenaline junkie than all of us. If you need anyone to hold a snake or chomp down on a scorpion, it’s probably him.” Andy’s generous cheeks wobbled as his face leaned on a folded hoodie against the window. Now that would be funny if it happened.
“Sit back, mate. Not long to go now.”
Lincoln leaned his head back, still amused by the surprise Andy was going to get. But a thought shaded his joy—the answer he wanted to give but couldn’t in case Eliza was sleeping light. The one thing he hoped to get out of the trip was her.
* * *
The tires had stopped droning—they now plowed through fine sand as five chestnut and mottled horses trotted alongside their vehicle, weaving in and out of the low bushes. Bree stifled a squeal. “Look! Who owns those horses?”
Eddie flicked wary glances to the thundering herd, his hands jerking the wheel away from their lunges toward their dirt track. “No one. They’re brumbies. They’re untamed and don’t want any kind of help in changing that.”
Andy stretched with an extravagant yawn. “Is everything in this country designed to kill you?”
Sloaney laughed. “If you don’t have your wits about you.”
The flanks rippled on the majestic animals keeping pace with them. Roaming free, manes flowing in the wind, unencumbered by anything. “Where are we?”
Eddie caught Bree’s eye. “The middle of nowhere.” He slowed the four-wheel drive and the soft shuffle under the tires was replaced by the slow crunch of gravel. The brumbies veered away from this new track as it bent around a clump of low grass and the brakes squealed as they came to a stop. “We’re here.”
* * *
The heavy car door creaked open and Andy placed his heels into the middle of nowhere. He felt remarkably refreshed—a sense he hadn’t felt in some time. The sun sunk low after a long climb across the sky as the whipping wind buffeted him. How long had they been driving? The terrain was flat as far as his eyes could see, interrupted by small, rocky outcrops—flat stacks of stone slabs teetering as they rose out of the sea of red. God’s game of Jenga. The occasional forlorn tree, bent over to the earth, back broken by the weather and the weight of time. Squat bushes punctuated the flat countryside, as if nature itself had given up trying to grow too tall in the harsh Australian outback.
Andy blinked hard and, on autopilot, reached for his phone, before he decided better of it.