29. Heavenly
Roman
Esther headed down the drive and parked near a garage that seemed to be the end of the car track, and I climbed out of the back seat as she got out of the front. I’d found it odd at first that she insisted on driving me like a chauffeur and would never allow herself to be driven, but had grown used to the luxury of being able to work in the car.
The house was older than I’d expected, clearly built around the end of the nineteenth century, with a wide covered porch on two sides. Below it, flowerbeds and lawns sloped down to what looked like orchards and well-tended gardens. A rooster crowed somewhere, a breeze rattled the seedpods in a grove of eucalyptus, and a faint hum of honeybees came from a flowering shrub. We were about fifteen minutes from downtown Dunedin, and a lifetime away, and I thought, This woman’s a nurse? This was a multimillion-dollar section, of that I was sure. Then I forgot that, because Summer stepped out onto the porch. T-shirt and shorts, her arms wrapped around herself as if she were cold.
“Hi,” I said, from the bottom of the steps, and smiled. It was good to see her, that was all. Her blonde hair was down for once, tumbling around her shoulders. She smiled, and I got that surge her smile did tend to give me. I realized what it was, too. Unlike most women, she didn’t smile unless she meant it. When she meant it … it was something.
“Hi,” she said, then looked at Esther, who followed me up the steps.
“My assistant,” I said. “Esther.”
“Hi,” Summer said, and Esther nodded. “But, uh, Roman … why?”
“Why what?” I asked.
“Why do you need reinforcements?”
“Oh. You’ll see. This will take a few minutes.”
“Let’s go inside, then,” she said. “I need to start cooking dinner.”
“Thought it was going to be a caravan,” I said, eyeing the fairly large house.
“It is,” she said. “It’s a long story,” and headed inside.
The first thing I noticed was the smell of scorched food. The reason for the smoke alarm, clearly. The second thing was the nurse, Daisy, whom I remembered from the hospital, standing at the foot of the stairs in a dressing gown and surveying me with the same lack of enthusiasm I remembered. With her was a big bloke whose face was familiar.
Oh. Tamatoa. Daisy Tamatoa. Gray Tamatoa, former All Black and current large-scale commercial builder. The house started making more sense.
The third thing I noticed was that Esther had stopped dead before even getting to the door, and it was still open. I turned back to her and said, “Come on, then. I’m Roman d’Angelo,” I told Daisy and Gray. “This is Esther.”
“Good to meet you,” Gray said. “Gray Tamatoa.”
“I noticed,” I said, and shook hands.
“So did I, mate,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind having a yarn about alternative power sources, if you’ve got time. Stay for dinner, if you can.”
Esther said, “No.” Still outside the open door.
I said, “Is there a problem?”
Daisy asked, “Heavenly?” Which was odd.
“No,” Esther said, and turned around and walked away. Then she came back and said, “I’ll call for an Uber.” She pulled a white envelope from her purse and handed it to me. “This is what you need.” She handed Summer a business card and said, “Ring me tomorrow. I have information about jobs and shops and so forth to send you, and some questions as well.”
“What?” Summer said. “Why …”
“What?” I said.
Nobody answered either of us. Daisy said, “It’s all right, Heavenly. We’re all out, too. You’re safe with us.”
Esther said, “My name is Esther.”
“Sorry,” Daisy said. “Esther. My sisters are in the kitchen. You won’t know them, because you left too long ago. We’re Loyal and Blessed Worthy’s daughters, but we have new names, too. I was Chastity, and my brother was Dutiful. You may not remember us, as Dorian—Dutiful—and I were only about thirteen when you left. I’m sorry, I’m just shocked. I didn’t know you were alive.”
“I was dead, was I?” Esther said. “No surprise. And I remember you. And your father.” Her tone was grim, and I thought, What? Again.
Summer was looking between them, and now, four more girls came out, presumably from the kitchen, as one of them was wearing an apron. Delilah said, “Hi, Roman. Pretty awesome place, huh, even though it doesn’t have five bathrooms and a swimming pool. Of course, we’re in a caravan. I realized when we got here that I’ve literally never lived in a house. I haven’t even been in a house that often, except when I visited Summer and, of course, when we stayed with you, but Summer decided that couldn’t last. I’d think I was doomed to live my life in trailers, but that’s why I’m going to college, right?”
Daisy told Esther, “These are Frankie, Priya, and Dove, and Summer’s cousin Delilah. All of my sisters are out, but only one of my brothers. My mum still won’t leave, and I wish she would. We could sit on the porch if you like and have a cup of tea, and I could fill you in.”
Esther said. “I don’t really?—”
Daisy said, “I understand, because I did the same thing. Wanted nothing to do with any of it. Feels better not to have to hide it anymore, though. I realized it’s not my shame, it’s their shame.”
Frankie said, “Personally, I prefer hiding it. I’m nobody’s sideshow. Refusal to engage. That’s a concept.”
Delilah said, “What exactly is going on? Is anybody going to tell me?”
Daisy said, “We’ve all come out of Mount Zion.”
“I heard that,” Delilah said. “I just don’t know what it means.”
“Roman can tell you,” Daisy said. “Let’s go outside, Esther. We’ll take a walk, if you like. It’s peaceful in the gardens.”
“All right,” Esther said, clearly still reluctant. “For a bit.” I’d never seen Esther at a loss in fifteen years, but she was at a loss now.
Frankie said, “I have no interest in this conversation. I’m going back to the yurt to do my homework. I dumped the burnt sauce and washed the pot, Summer. Go for it.” And after a moment, reluctantly, “Thanks for rescuing me. And if you really wouldn’t mind helping me later?—”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Summer said. “After dinner, I’m all yours.”
Priya said, “I’m going to stay here. Sorry, Delilah, if you wanted to watch that show.”
“Nope,” Delilah said. “I want to hear the story.”
“You won’t hear it from me,” Frankie said.
“I guess I’m staying over here, then,” Delilah said. “Who knew it would be so exciting?”
That made three people gone, which left me standing there with the envelope in my hand, together with Summer, Delilah, Priya, Gray, and the youngest girl, who hovered in the background and finally said, “I can start the sauce, Summer, if you like.”
“Oh, right,” Summer said, looking distracted. “The sauce. Let’s do that.”
I ended up sitting at a breakfast bar with Gray, Priya, and Delilah, who first made her announcement about her non-hemorrhoid donut and then sat on it. Gray didn’t react much, but then, Gray was clearly used to teenage girls. He opened two beers, handed me one, and sat relaxed with the old Labrador at his feet while the youngest girl, Dove, chopped onions and Summer defrosted mince and opened cans of tomatoes. I finally said, “You’ve got enough happening here, Summer, so I’ll give you this and go as soon as Esther’s back.” Conscious of my audience, and determined not to be put off by it. I set the envelope on the benchtop. “Credit card for you and Delilah for all that shopping and beauty and so forth. Esther’s looked up the best shops and will text the info to you, like she said. She also has some questions about the kind of job you’re looking for.”
Summer said, “What?”
“Best researcher I know,” I said. “If there’s a software engineer job out there, she’ll find it for you.”
“I didn’t ask—” she said.
“I know you didn’t,” I said. “No skin off my nose. Esther’s doing it, not me.”
Summer looked irresolute, as if she were wondering whether this compromised her independence, but finished breaking up the half-frozen block of mince, shoved it back in the microwave and started it up again, then washed her hands, dried them on a tea towel, and picked up the envelope. She looked up at me once she’d opened it, and as usual, I couldn’t tell what she was thinking.
“You put it in a card,” she said.
“Esther bought the card,” I said.
“Oh.” She smiled. “Not a surprise. But a credit card? Roman …”
“It’s got four thousand on it,” I said, conscious of Gray’s gaze on me and thinking, Not your business, mate. “Enough for what you’ll need to come help me on Saturday.”
“Right,” she said. “I’m not going to protest, but I’ll give it back to you after we’re done, because your idea of the necessary grandeur of my presentation way outstrips mine. Four thousand? Roman …”
“I know,” I said, unable to keep from smiling. “You’re not for sale.”
“Too bad I love that you did this,” she said, still weighing the greeting card in her hand. “It’s so sweet.”
“It’s not sweet,” I said. “It’s practical.” I told Gray, “Summer and Delilah are going up to Katikati with me at the weekend to meet my so-called family. Long story.”
Delilah said, “Summer’s going to pretend to be Roman’s girlfriend up there. Which I don’t get the point of, but never mind, nobody ever asks me. So we need rich-guy-girlfriend clothes. Well, Summer does, and I need cute-cousin-tagging-along clothes. Good thing Summer knows how to be a rich-bitch WAG. That’s what she used to be,” she told Gray. “That means a wife or girlfriend of a pro athlete.”
“I heard,” Gray said.
“He knows what it means,” I said, “as he was an All Black.”
Summer had gone back for the mince and turned on the cooker under a pan. Now, she dumped in the meat together with the onions and garlic Dove gave her, stirred it as the mixture began to sizzle in appetizing fashion, and said, “Perfect. If you have a couple of carrots, grate them for me, will you? And if you have capsicums or celery or mushrooms, chop those fine, too.”
Dove nodded, and Delilah said, “OK, I’ll bite. What’s an All Black?”
“The national rugby team,” Summer said. “Really? You were?” She looked at me. “You’d better not be one, too. I refuse to believe …”
“That the universe is capable of that much random irony?” Delilah said.
“Who, me?” I said. “Nah. Just a regular bloke.”
“Yeah, right,” Delilah said. “A regular bloke with three houses and a swimming pool.”
“Gray has three houses, too,” Priya said. “I thought everybody Outside must have more than one house, until I realized most people only have one.”
“What a coincidence,” Delilah said. “And Outside where? Here, Dove, let me help you. Standing up feels better anyway.” She abandoned her donut and started rinsing veg, which was progress from waiting for Summer to take care of everything and then complaining about it.
I wished Summer would read my card. I hadn’t wanted to write in it, but I wanted to see what she’d say when she did. How she’d look. Since it wasn’t happening, I said, “Outside of the cult. Mount Zion is an, ah …” I looked at Gray. “Not sure how to describe it.”
“Bloody awful,” he said, taking a sip of his beer. “Religious cult. Extreme Christianity. Messianic leader. No birth control. Closed community, although that’s changing.” He paused. “Abuse of women and kids. Very nearly imprisonment. You have some of those in the States, I think. Mormon, or something.”
Summer stopped stirring, and the mince sizzled and spat. “Plural marriage?”
“No,” Gray said. “Very young marriage.” He looked grim.
“And that’s where all of you were, Dove?” Summer asked. “Until when?”
“Just a bit ago, for me,” Dove said, and that was all, but Priya went on, “The rest of us have been Outside longer. Daisy left ages ago, when she was sixteen. One of our brothers is Outside, too, but he doesn’t … he’s more separate, the way people are here. In Mount Zion, everybody lives together, but his wife doesn’t …” She trailed off and glanced at Gray, looking half-afraid.
“Fortunately,” Gray said, “I enjoy a bit of chaos. Sportsman, eh. You won’t get more personalities than you do in a rugby squad, though this runs close.”
“Esther came from there, too?” Summer asked. “And you didn’t know, Roman?”
“No,” I said. “Esther doesn’t talk about her private life.” I hoped she was OK out there with Daisy, but I told myself that if she wasn’t, she was perfectly capable of getting herself out of here. Esther was no shrinking violet.
Summer stirred her vegetables, got out some herbs and red wine, then said, “Oh! My card.”
I said, “You can read it later.” I’d changed my mind. I didn’t want an audience.
“Why?” Delilah said. “Did you write something embarrassing? Do not read it aloud, Summer. I can’t take any more revelations tonight. You keep saying New Zealand is calm and relaxing. I don’t call any of what’s happened relaxing. All right, I’m the one who rolled the car down the hill, but that’s one thing! One! And since then, it’s just been all …” She threw up her hands and made a noise like an explosion.
“Ah,” Gray said. “The plot reveals itself.” Sounding nothing but amused, which was annoying, but then he told me, “I had a similar experience. Life, eh. Sometimes it works out pretty well.”
“What do you mean, a similar experience?” Delilah asked.
“He doesn’t want to tell you the story of his life,” Summer said.
“How do you know?” Delilah answered. “Maybe he’s dying to tell me. Maybe he’s been burning to talk it over with a sympathetic listener.” At which both Gray and I smiled.
It was Priya who answered. “Gray met Daisy first. When her car went into the river. And then he helped her get Frankie and Oriana out of Mount Zion.”
“And invited them to live with you?” Delilah asked. “Is this, like, a New Zealand male savior thing, or what?”
Gray and I looked at each other, shrugged, and said, “Maybe,” at the same time, after which I clicked my beer bottle against his, said, “Cheers,” took a drink, and felt better. Gray, for his part, said, “It probably didn’t hurt that I liked the look of Daisy. And that I had to talk her into staying with me, and it wasn’t easy.”
Summer said, “So the reluctance was appealing? That makes sense, for a professional athlete.”
“Ah,” I said. “The bloke had to talk you into being with him too, did he? Felipe Moyano,” I told Gray. “The footballer.”
“I heard,” he said.
“If you’d watch the show,” Summer said, “you’d know.”
“You still haven’t watched the show?” Delilah asked.
“What show?” asked Priya.
Summer said, “I am not listening.” After which she opened the card, read the message, and looked up at me again. Delilah said, “Read it aloud,” but Summer didn’t seem to hear. Instead, she said,“Tell me Esther didn’t write this.”
“Esther didn’t write it,” I said.
At first, I’d just written, Thanks for this, and couldn’t think of what else to say. The greeting card Esther had chosen was a close-up of a koru, the fiddlehead of a fern, about as cliché a New Zealand image as you could get. How was this going to make the credit card any more personal?
I’d set it aside, gone back to work, then grabbed it and written, all in a rush, Swimming with you was the most fun I’ve had in ages. Pack your bikini and we’ll do it again. I’d debated saying something about the waterfall, but decided better not, not with a woman as skittish as a bird. Not one of those friendly birds, either.
Summer traced her fingers lightly over the words, closed the card, and said, “Thank you.” Softly, in that gruff little voice of hers, and I had to clear my throat before I could answer, “No worries.”
“It really matters to you,” she said. “That I come.”
“Yeh. It does,” I said, aware of all of them listening.
She jumped. “Oh! The sauce.” And then turned back to me and said, “Thank you” again. “I keep thinking you’re like him. Like Felipe. And you’re not.”
“No,” I said. “Probably worse.” And she laughed.