Chapter Twenty-Six
Henry
Despite the way my personal life is collapsing around my ears, as usual I have no problems with my professional life, and on Saturday the conference goes swimmingly. Tyson and I make a good double act, providing just enough humor to warm the audience, while being knowledgeable enough to convince them we know what we’re talking about. Tyson gives a moving talk about his own experience, and I keep them captivated as I show footage of MAX and THOR, our exoskeletons, and show interviews with those whose lives we’ve changed.
After our presentation, during lunch, we talk to health professionals and industry experts, and we exchange business cards and come away with lots of exciting contacts.
When we’re done, we head to the airport feeling as if we’ve conquered the world.
“Alex is going to be pleased,” Tyson says.
“Yeah, I’m glad we did okay,” I reply. “I was worried you’d miss James and I’d ruin everything.”
“Hardly,” he scoffs. “James might be Mr. Smoothie, but you’re still Head of HR. Your people skills are pretty hot,”
“Not where girls are concerned,” I say somewhat gloomily.
“Chin up,” he says. “Gaby was going to see Juliette this morning. I’ll call her when we’re at the gate and see what she found out.”
I glare at him. “I didn’t know you were going to tell Gaby.”
“I tell Gaby everything. I thought you knew that. We have no secrets from each other.”
I think about that as we check in and drop off our bags. I tried opening up to Juliette, but it didn’t get me anywhere. God, I miss her. I’ve texted her several times, but she still hasn’t come back, and when I rang, it went to voicemail again. I didn’t leave a message the second time.
Sure enough, once we’ve got to the flight lounge and ordered some dinner, Tyson heads off to call his wife. He’s gone for a while. I sit and pretend to read on my phone, but I’m surprisingly nervous to discover what he’s found out, and I end up flicking through TikTok and Insta, doom scrolling and not really reading anything.
When Tyson eventually comes back, his face is serious, and he doesn’t smile as he sits.
“Everything all right?” I ask.
He leans back as the waitress delivers our pasta, and he picks up his fork, then puts it down again as she goes off.
“Did Gaby meet Juliette?” I prompt.
He nods. “Juliette’s staying at a hotel.”
My eyebrows rise. “Why?”
“She didn’t want to stay at the apartment because she thought Cam would call in to see her. She said she wants some time alone.”
My heart slams to a stop. “Really?”
“She’s trying to make her mind up what to do.” He puts pepper on his pasta, then puts the grinder down and leans on the table. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but Gaby’s really concerned about her. She said that Juliette cried, and she seemed quite panicky and upset. Apparently…” He hesitates and meets my eyes.
“What?” I snap.
“She’s thinking about terminating the pregnancy.”
My jaw drops. “Really?”
“Gaby doesn’t think she will. But she said Juliette doesn’t want to be with Cam. She doesn’t want to go to Australia. But she doesn’t want to bring the baby up alone either. And she told Gaby that you apparently said to her that you wouldn’t want to bring up another man’s child.”
I lean back and look up at the ceiling for a moment.
“Did you tell her that?” Tyson asks.
I nod slowly. “We’d been talking about the fact that she wants children and I can’t have them. I said I’d go through IVF if she wanted to, but I think she realized that I don’t really want to do that. And I told her I wouldn’t want her to have a sperm donor. That’s when I said I wouldn’t want to bring up another man’s child. I’m not proud of that, but I said it would feel too weird.”
“And she’s extrapolated that to mean you’re not interested in being with her now she’s pregnant with Cam’s baby.”
“Yeah. It doesn’t help that I reacted badly when she told me.” Jesus, I feel so ashamed.
“So the only way she can think of to be with you is to terminate the pregnancy,” Tyson says. “But she said she’d feel too guilty to do it for that reason. She’s really confused, and genuinely doesn’t know what to do.”
I’m shocked, but I can also see why she’s considering it. The poor girl. On the surface, it’s such an easy decision. Remove the whole quandary with one easy pill, and we’d be able to start again. She’s not a practicing Hindu, or a Christian. She’s not bound by religious dogma, and she needn’t tell her parents.
But I know her well enough to understand that faith is different from religion, and this is going to evoke all kinds of moral questions that won’t be easy to answer.
I cover my face with my hands, then run them through my hair. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”
He tips his head to the side. “So you would consider being with her now, if she wanted to be with you?”
I look away, out at a plane that has just landed and is taxiing to the gate. “It’s not the perfect situation. She’ll never be free of Cam if she’s pregnant with his baby, and he’ll continue to be a fucking thorn in my side. But it’s done. And if I want her, I guess I need to accept his baby, too.”
“Maybe the best way to think about it is that it’s her baby,” Tyson suggests.
I look back at him. “Yeah, maybe.” It’s not the baby’s fault that this is happening. The child is innocent, free of sin, and deserves the best start in life it can possibly have.
Is that with me? Is that really the best option for it? Or would growing up with Cam be better? I think of James, who’s adopting Leia, because he insists she deserves better than her birth father. I happen to agree with him, but is it really his decision to make? To take the choice away from Leia’s birth father?
“Having one daddy is great,” Tyson says. “So having two must be double great, right?”
“I don’t know how Cam would feel about the baby calling me Daddy.”
“True. Maybe you’ll just be Henry. Either way, you’d be the one who got to live with Juliette, and who’d be there looking after the kid day in, day out. Cam would be in Australia. It’d be hard for him to be too much of a pain in the arse if he was over there.”
Privately, I think he could still manage to cause trouble even if he moved to Venus, but I don’t say so. If I want this to work, I’d have to find a way to work with him, and for us to at least be civil toward one another.
He’d obviously play a major part in the baby’s life. Juliette would have to consult with him about all the major decisions like health and education. And what if his opinion was different from mine? I can foresee all kinds of pitfalls, with Cam doing his best to make it as difficult as possible. He’s that kind of guy—jealous and vindictive—and it would be impossible for it not to turn into a war.
Do I have the stomach for that?
These are the questions that Juliette must be asking herself. We all like to think that love conquers all, but there’s so much more to this than who loves whom the most. For her there’s the added weight of duty and responsibility. For Cam there’s revenge and control. And all I feel is a kind of hopeless impotence, because once again everything seems to be out of my hands.
I wish she were pregnant with my child. I wish I could do that for her. But I can’t. And at least this takes away the problem of sperm donors and adoption. The baby is half hers. That’s the best I’m going to get.
I look outside, to where it’s starting to rain, pattering on the windows.
Juliette. She might not even have me now. I fucked up by reacting badly, and she might decide she’s better off alone.
I need to get back and talk to her. Until then, I’ll just have to be patient, and hope that she’s strong enough to cope on her own, without going back to him.
*
Because you have to be at the airport three hours before an international flight, and we didn’t want to leave the conference until after lunch, our plane leaves at seven p.m. It would have been easier to fly out on Sunday, but both of us wanted to get home as soon as possible, so we had to put up with the late time. The flight is three hours, but Sydney is two hours behind Wellington, so it’s midnight before it lands, and nearly one a.m. before I actually get home.
There’s still no message from Juliette. I do have one missed call from Rangi, but it’s too late to call him back now. I’m tired from the trip and the energy I had to summon for the presentation, and I go straight to bed and crash out.
Next morning, I text Alex, who’s away with James, witnessing his marriage to Aroha, and let him know that it went well, then I try to call Juliette again. It goes to voicemail. Frustrated, I’m considering calling Gaby to demand to know which hotel she’s at when my phone goes. Expecting to see Juliette’s name, I experience a leap of the heart, which plummets again when I realize it’s my brother, Philip.
“Hello?” I say.
“It’s me,” he replies.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“What are you doing right now?” he asks. “Can you come over?”
I frown. “Why, what’s the matter?”
“It’s Rangi.”
I get to my feet and go over to the window, my pulse picking up. “What’s happened?”
“He took an overdose last night.”
“Jesus.” I run a hand through my hair, remembering the call I missed. Ah, fuck. “How is he?”
“The hospital took him in and pumped his stomach, but they let me bring him home this morning. He has to go in for some kind of psych evaluation this afternoon. He’s…” He pauses. “He’s just lying on his bed, crying. I don’t know what to do. He won’t talk to me. Look, I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye. But he trusts you. And… he’s my boy. I didn’t think he’d do something like this. Will you come and talk to him?”
“Of course,” I say immediately. “I’ll be right over.”
“Thanks, bro.”
“See you soon.”
I dress quickly, grab my keys and wallet, and head out. Soon I’m flying along the state highway, heading to Philip’s house.
On the way, I call Greenfield Residential School and ask to speak to Atticus Bell. I’m not sure if he’ll be there as he often goes out into the mountains on camp, but after thirty seconds or so there’s a click, and he says, “Atticus speaking.”
Atticus is in his mid-fifties, tall and slender, with thick gray hair and a gray beard and mustache. He’s the closest thing I have to a father figure, and he was instrumental in helping me become the man I am today, so I have a lot to thank him for.
“Atticus, it’s Henry West.”
“Henry! It’s good to hear from you. How are you doing?”
“Yeah, not bad. Sorry for the sound quality—I’m in the car.”
“No worries, you’re pretty clear. What’s up? Have you been thinking about what I said?” As I mentioned to Alex, he’s asked me to consider leading some of the adventure therapy sessions.
“I have, but that’s not why I’m calling.”
“Oh, what’s up?”
I tell him about Rangi, about the fact that he got his girl pregnant, that she terminated it, and that he’s so upset by it, he tried to take his own life. I know he won’t be judgmental. He deals with young men and women on a daily basis who get themselves into far worse scrapes than this, and he’s all about solving the problem rather than apportioning blame.
“Aw,” Atticus says when I’m done. “The poor lad.”
“Yeah. My brother’s asked me to go over, which shows how bad things are. Look, I’ve mentioned to him about sending Rangi to Greenfield before and he’s always said no, but I think maybe he’ll be open to the suggestion now. So I wanted to ask, do you have any room there this year?”
“We’ll make room, Henry. You’ve given enough to the place to warrant something in return.”
I send regular donations to the school, and recently gave an additional sum toward the building of a swimming pool for the students.
“I don’t do it for this reason,” I say awkwardly, conscious that I sound like one of those people who donates to hospitals then expects to jump the queue when they need treatment.
“Of course you don’t. But even so, it’s the least we can do. How old is he?”
“Sixteen.”
“So year twelve? Yeah we’ve still got a couple of places.”
“I’ll talk to them this morning and get back to you.”
“Sure, no worries.”
“How are things going with you anyway?” I ask, coming off the State Highway and heading into the city. “How’s Clem?” I’m very fond of his wife, who bakes the best blueberry muffins in the country.
“She’s good thank you, in fine form.”
“And Joel and Fraser?” I spent a lot of time with his boys during my stay at Greenfield, and keep in touch with them. I sometimes wondered whether Atticus was worried that the troubled adolescents would corrupt his children, but with their good manners, hardworking attitude, and sense of humor, all three of his kids were a positive influence on the residents, rather than the other way around.
“Yeah, both working hard.” Atticus has a passion for history and archaeology that he handed down to his children, as well as many of the kids who passed through his care. Fraser now runs a museum in Wellington, and Joel is an underwater archaeologist.
“And Elora?” I ask softly. “How’s she doing?” His daughter, Elora-Rose Bell, is four years younger than me. When I first arrived at Greenfield, she was only ten, but she had blonde plaits and big, innocent blue eyes, and from the start I adored her as if she was my own baby sister. I haven’t seen her for a while, though, and Joel hinted that she’d been in some trouble a few years ago, but he wouldn’t elaborate, so I don’t know what happened.
“She finished her degree last year,” Atticus says, “and she’s doing a Masters in Archaeology now. She’s smarter than both the boys put together.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I know.” I indicate to turn toward Philip’s road. “So... uh... did you hear about Linc?”
Lincoln Green started at the school with me, and the first time we met—when I joked that he was named after the color of Robin Hood’s tights—he hit me, but it was just the start of a beautiful friendship. Like me, at the time he’d been an angry and resentful young guy, born into poverty, and with no positive role models or opportunities to improve himself. After Linc’s father beat him so badly that he ended up in hospital, a teacher put Linc’s name forward to Atticus, who took him in hoping he could turn things around for him.
Linc spent four years at Greenfield and was doing just fine until Atticus caught him kissing Elora. Linc was eighteen and she was only fourteen, and Atticus went supernova on his arse and told him he had to leave the school. Linc had caught the archaeology bug from the family and had developed his obsession with Egypt by that point, and Atticus had just found him a place on a youth volunteer group in Cairo, so within a week, Linc was sent packing, and as far as I know, he hasn’t been back. Elora cried for days after he left, but Atticus remained unmovable and announced that if he found Linc within a mile of her, he’d call the police and have Linc put behind bars for being a pedophile.
I was gutted for Linc at the time, and shocked at Atticus’s reaction. It was just a kiss, after all; it wasn’t as if Atticus had caught them having sex. But Elora is his baby girl, and he perceived Linc’s actions as an abuse of his generosity, his kind nature, and his investment in the lad. Privately, I think Atticus saw Linc as a third son, which is why Linc’s behavior shocked him maybe more than it ordinarily would have.
Last week, though, Joel texted me to say he’d heard that Linc’s father had died, and he was returning to New Zealand for the funeral.
“I heard,” Atticus says. “I told him nine years ago that if I caught him within a mile of my daughter, I’d wring his neck, and nothing has changed in that regard.”
I give a sad sigh. Now I’m older, I understand his protectiveness toward his daughter, but I’m sure that Linc would like to see him again, as Linc thought of him like a father, the same way I did. Still, it’s none of my business.
“Well, I’d better go,” I say awkwardly. “I’ll call you when I’ve spoken to Philip.”
“Yes, we’ll speak soon.”
I end the call. I feel a little more hopeful now, although of course it doesn’t mean that Philip will let Rangi go.
My heart aches at the thought of what the kid’s been through. It feels ironic to be in a similar situation with Juliette, and to be as powerless as Rangi to affect the outcome.
I navigate the maze of roads into the suburb where Philip lives. It’s one of the poorer areas of the city, where the houses are smaller and close together, the crime rates are high, there are burnt-out and abandoned cars, and someone was even murdered last year in a house in a nearby street. I wish he’d let me buy him somewhere nicer, but that’s never going to happen.
Still, hopefully he’ll now let me help his son.
I pull up outside his house, only then wishing I’d brought the Range Rover rather than the BMW, but it’s too late now. Glaring at a couple of youths who are hanging about further down the street, I lock the car and head up the path to the front door.
Philip opens it and gives me the upward nod of the head that’s a silent welcome. I return it, walk by him into the hallway, and go through to the living room.
Everyone’s there—Mum, Teariki, Philip’s current wife Hine, their young daughter Kaia, Philip’s other two children, our sister, Liza, and her husband and kids, and also Philip’s first wife and Rangi’s mum, Ngaire.
Jesus. Poor Rangi.
Everyone says hello, and I bend to hug Kaia as she runs up to me. “Are you here to help Rangi?” she asks. There are tears in her eyes.
“Yeah,” I say, rubbing her back. “Come on, he’ll be all right.”
“Kaia found him yesterday,” Ngaire says.
Ah, man. I kiss Kaia on the top of her head. “I’m so sorry,” I murmur as she hugs me tightly. “But we’ll do our best to help him, eh?”
She nods and releases me as her mum pulls her away.
“Come on,” Philip says roughly.
I follow him out into the hallway, then catch his arm as he goes to walk upstairs. “Can I talk to you first?”
He nods, and we go out into the kitchen. It’s a mess out here, with dirty pots and pans in the sink and plates covered in half-eaten food stacked up on the draining board. I try not to look at it and focus on his face.
“I want to talk to you about Greenfield,” I say.
He leans against the sink and folds his arms. “I thought you might.”
I fix him with a firm gaze. “Come on, he needs help—more than a stern talking to about being a man. He’s lonely and lost, and this—losing Ellie and the baby—has crushed him. He needs something to hang onto, or it’s just going to happen again.”
“I know.” He’s stiff with resentment and dislike, but then he brushes a hand over his face. “Okay. If he wants to go, I won’t stop him.”
I feel a flood of relief. “It’s a good place, and hopefully it’ll give him a new purpose. Turn things around for him.”
Philip nods. Then he looks away out of the window. “Do you ever think of Dad?”
I blink. I made the decision not to tell him what I discovered about our father from Rawiri because I didn’t think he’d be able to handle the news that Dad was still alive. It was bad enough to think that he died in an accident; it would destroy Philip to learn that the abandonment was purposeful.
“Sometimes,” I reply.
“I’ve always wished he hadn’t died. But I know if he hadn’t, things wouldn’t have been much better.” His gaze came back to me. “Do you remember what he was like? The arguments? The beatings?”
“Yeah. I know it was worse for you.”
He shrugs. Then he says, “I don’t want to be like him.” He meets my eyes, then drops his gaze guiltily. He knows he’s already walked in our father’s shoes for far too long. Anger flares inside me at the thought of what his kids have had to go through.
But I clamp down on it. This isn’t the time to berate or condemn him. Recognizing the problem is half the battle, right?
“That’s good,” I say roughly. “And this is the first step, right? To do the best you can for your boy.”
He nods and swallows.
“All right.” I clap him on the shoulder. “I’m going to go up and see him.”
I make my way up the stairs, go along the landing to Rangi’s door, and knock on it. He doesn’t reply. I wait for a bit, knock again, then turn the handle and go in.
He’s lying on his bed, on his back, his headphones on, staring up at the ceiling. He’s not crying, but he looks so miserable it breaks my heart. He glances over, though, and when he sees me he takes off his headphones and sits up.
“Hey, bro,” I say softly.
“Henry,” he says, and his bottom lip trembles.
“Hey.” I sit on the bed next to him. To my surprise, he moves over to hug me and starts crying.
“Ah, it’s okay.” I hold him tightly and rub his back. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
We sit there like that for a while. It rains for a bit, hammering against the window, and then the sun comes out—four seasons in one day, typical Kiwi weather. Eventually he stops crying, and I pick up the toilet roll someone’s conveniently left on the bedside table and peel off a bit for him to blow his nose.
While he’s composing himself, I look around. It still looks like the room of an eleven-year-old, with LEGO models, old posters on the walls, and a box of toys against the wall that are far too young for him. It reminds me of the boy who used to love skateboarding, and who used to watch Shrek with me.
But he’s not eleven anymore. He’s sixteen, old enough to have consenting sex and get married, to hold a learner driver license, to leave school, and to be paid the minimum wage.
“I’m sorry you’ve been going through a difficult time,” I tell him.
He moves back against the pillows. “They won’t let me see Ellie anymore.”
“I know.”
“I love her,” he says. “They think we don’t know what love is because we’re young, but we do.”
I nod. “I know. I can see how you feel about her. And I’m sorry you can’t be with her right now. Maybe in the future, after she turns sixteen, you might be able to start dating her again.”
“I don’t think her parents will let her,” he says doubtfully.
No doubt Philip and her folks will kill me for saying this, but I reply, “There’s not much they can do about it when you’re both sixteen and old enough to leave home.”
He heaves a big sigh. “I wish I was older. I’d buy her a house so we can be together. But I’ve got no job, nowhere to go. Nothing to give her.”
“You’ve got lots to give her. You’re a decent guy, and you’re loving and affectionate. That’s more than a lot of men have to offer.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “Look, what you need is a way to break the cycle. You need an education, a job, money, and prospects. And that’s where I think I can help. I’ve spoken to your dad, and he’s agreed that if you want, you can go to Greenfield.”
He stares at me, his jaw dropping. “Seriously?”
“Yes. I’d pay for all your fees. You’d go and stay there during term time, and come home for the holidays. The thing is, your future is up to you. If you work hard, they’ll help you get qualified in something that interests you, and help you get a job. I was thinking maybe as a mechanic?”
He blinks. “Do you think I could do it?”
“Of course.” He’s not an academic, but he’s smart, and he’s always enjoyed tinkering with cars and bikes. “Greenfield runs an apprenticeship program, and they teach automotive in Year Twelve, so it’s not as if you’re behind—you’d be going straight in. It’ll take time to get qualified, but if you can prove to Ellie’s parents that you’re working hard and that you want to get a job and provide for her, maybe they’ll change their opinion and let you see her.”
It’s a long shot, but it’s possible. The thing is, while he’s away he’ll meet lots of other people and probably find a new girl. And if he doesn’t—if he does continue to harbor feelings for Ellie—it will help him to prove that he’s willing to change for her.
He gets up and throws his arms around me again. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you for understanding, and for everything.”
“It’s okay,” I say gruffly. “I’m so sorry I missed your call last night—I was on the plane back from Sydney, and when I got home it was one a.m. and I thought it was too late to call you back. I should have, and I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“I’m always here for you. Remember that.” My throat tightens even more at the thought that I might have been too late. “Come and find me if you ever feel bad again. Don’t do anything without speaking to me first. I couldn’t bear it if I lost you.”
His arms tighten, and we sit like that for a long time, while the rainclouds clear, and the summer sun shines once again.