Chapter Nineteen
Joel
When I wake again, the cabin is filled with light.
I blink and lift my head to look around. Zoe and I are still pressed together in the tiny bunk, and she’s breathing evenly, still asleep. The rain has stopped, and the wind has abated. Sunshine is streaming through the windows, falling across the floor like gold bars, as if we’re in a bank vault. Wow. Last night I’d have been convinced the bad weather was here to stay for weeks. Talk about four seasons in one day.
I badly need to pee, but I can’t get up without disturbing her. “Zo…” I kiss her on the nose, then on the mouth.
She stirs, yawns, and blinks at me. She looks startled as her memory obviously kicks in. “Oh. Morning.”
“Morning. Sorry, sweetheart, but I have to get up.”
“Okay.” She turns over and levers herself upright, then stands. I scoot over and get up, too. Our eyes meet, and a touch of color appears on her cheeks before she turns away.
“Oh my God,” she says, looking out of the window. “It’s sunny!”
“I know, crazy eh?” I check my phone and discover it’s 7:45 a.m., far later than I normally rise, but that just shows how exhausted I was. I go to the front door and open it. Outside, everything looks as if it’s been scrubbed to within an inch of its life. The flattened grass glows a vivid green. The forest sparkles where the sun hits the raindrops on the leaves. The cabin gleams as if it was built yesterday.
I step out and walk across the grass to the toilet. I could just pee in the trees, but it seems polite to use the facility. When I’m done, I walk back across the grass, stop to wash my hands under the tap attached to the tank, then go back inside.
Zoe has dressed in the clothes that dried in front of the fire last night, and she’s combed her hair and pulled it back into a small ponytail. She’s laid out what’s left of the food and water, and she’s currently eating a cracker while she looks at her phone.
“Is it working?” I ask, pulling up a chair next to her and picking up one of the pies.
“Yeah. No internet, obviously, but it looks as if it’s dried out.”
I pick up mine, which is the same—working but with no signal.
Zoe puts hers down, and I glance at it and see that she has a photo of Rory as her wallpaper. Of course, she has that problem to sort out when she gets back.
“I wonder if anyone’s tried to contact us,” she says.
“Will your mum be worried if she can’t get hold of you?”
She shrugs. “Probably not. What about you?”
“The only problem might be if Manu and the others realize the boat’s not there. They’ll know I would have tried to get back before the bad weather hit.” I sigh. “I’m sad we didn’t find the necklace.”
She shrugs. “It is what it is. I’m used to disappointment.”
I frown. I can’t put my finger on it, but I’m sure she’s not telling me everything.
Or maybe I’m just reading too much into it. She only got three days on the Relentless, and it was spoiled by her regulator malfunctioning and then of course the storm.
She won’t meet my eyes now. Is she regretting what happened last night? I hope not. I feel as if I ought to say something to reassure her, but I feel oddly tongue tied. I want to push her to admit that we were so good together, and that we should give this a go, but I have a horrible feeling she’s going to turn me down. The passion from last night was born out of our fear that our lives were in danger. In the cold light of day, maybe she’s realized she doesn’t have feelings for me at all.
She turns around, her lips curving up. “That was a big sigh.”
“Was it?” I hadn’t even realized I’d done it.
She comes back and sits down. “What’s the matter?”
I shrug. “I feel as if I’ve let you down.”
“Aw, Joel. None of it was your fault. Not the regulator malfunctioning, or the storm, or not being able to find the necklace.”
“It wasn’t my fault that your regulator developed a problem, but it could have been avoided if I’d checked for moisture. I’m not to blame for the storm, but it was my idea to go out on the boat, and I should have set an alarm when we both dozed.”
She looks into my eyes then, and for a moment I feel as if she’s searching them with a flashlight, the way we did while we were looking for the necklace.
“Is this all to do with Elora?” she asks. “Do you blame yourself for what happened to her? Because you know it wasn’t your fault, right?”
I just stare at her, speechless.
A frown flickers on her brow. “I’m right, aren’t I? But you were at university when it happened, weren’t you?”
I give her a wry look. “I thought it was me who liked whelks. Stop wheedling.”
“I want to know. Why would you blame yourself for it?”
I shift on the chair. “Yeah, I was at university. I used to call home a few times a week, and one of those times, Dad told me it was Elora’s ball the following week. He knew about the After Ball parties, of course, and he said he was concerned that she might end up going to one. He said he’d spoken to Fraser about it, but Fraser was away in Sydney that week, on a museum management course. So Dad asked if I’d come up and go with her so I could keep an eye on her.”
Zoe frowns. “She wouldn’t have wanted you hanging around her.”
“I know. That’s partly why I said no. Dad was always over-protective of her, and I thought she needed some freedom. Plus I was busy. I had a new girlfriend, and a hectic social life, and upcoming exams, and the last thing I wanted to do was babysit for my sister.”
Zoe leans forward on the table, looking into my eyes again. “Does your dad blame you for what happened?”
I hesitate. “He says he doesn’t.”
“Oh, Joel.” She takes my hand. “And you blame yourself, too.”
I thread my fingers through hers. “If I’d gone with her, it probably wouldn’t have happened. Dad and I both know that. He blames himself too, of course. He was thinking about driving up there and picking her up, but in the end he decided not to. I know he struggles with that.”
She looks at our hands for a long moment. Then she says, “I’m going to say something quite harsh now. I hope you don’t take it the wrong way. But Elora chose to go to that After-Ball Party. And she chose to drink the punch.”
I stiffen. “She didn’t know it was spiked.”
“No, she didn’t. And that’s exactly my point. Every fork in the road can lead to joy or disaster. There’s no way of knowing. We make these decisions every day, from whether we have tea or coffee to whether we begin or end a relationship. We don’t have a crystal ball, and we can’t predict the outcome. At the time, when your dad asked you to go with her, the likelihood is that she’d have resented you being there. Maybe she’d have given you the slip, and she might still have been attacked. Either way, everyone made choices about that night, including Elora. To say she was powerless takes away her agency. She chose to go to the party. She chose to drink the punch. But that doesn’t mean she’s to blame for the outcome of the evening. Her dad isn’t either, and neither are you or Fraser. The only people responsible are the ones who hurt her.”
I look away, out of the window at the bright sunshine. It’s a nice thing to say, but I’ve lived with the guilt for so long that it’s corroded my soul the way seawater eats into iron. I’m so full of rust, my insides flaking and crumbling, that it doesn’t feel as if there’s any of me left to save. I don’t think Zoe will ever be able to convince me that I’m guiltless.
“Joel,” she says, squeezing my hand, “you weren’t to blame for the storm, or for the fact that we didn’t make it back in time. You need to let go of the feeling that if you’re not in control, your life is going to fall apart. It’s as if you’re attempting to control the elements—the storm, the ocean. We’re like pieces of driftwood carried by the tide. All we can do is hang on and hope we get to solid ground eventually.”
She lifts my hand and kisses it. “Now come on, we should get going, just in case anyone is worried about us.”
We rise and start packing up our things in the waterproof bag. Blushing, Zoe rolls up the thermal blanket and wipes down the mattress. I don’t say anything; I empty the water bucket outside, brush the floor, and rake the embers of the fire so they can cool. We make sure we put everything back where we left it.
She checks the wound on my leg, which has stopped bleeding and doesn’t look too bad, and changes the dressing.
Lastly, I pick up the pen that’s tied to a peg by the door and open the visitor’s book. I know they like you to write in it because it helps them to keep a record of events in the area. Zoe comes over and watches as I write, “Joel Bell and Zoe Moon swam to shore from the Codfather dive boat when she ran into trouble near the Black Rocks. We stayed the night during a bad storm and were very grateful for the shelter and the fire. We’re leaving this morning to walk to the other end of the island. Thank you for your hospitality.”
Zoe smiles. “You’re so polite.”
“It was beaten into me as a child. Not literally, I hasten to add.” I lift the strap of the bag over my head so it lies across my chest. “Come on then.”
We go outside and make sure the door is shut securely behind us. It’s just gone 8:30, and the morning is bright and clear.
“I’m kinda sad to leave it behind,” Zoe says.
I know what she means. I think about what happened between us last night and wonder whether it’ll happen again. She’s opened up to me, but I know she’s still hiding something, and I’m sure she’s not convinced that dating me is a good idea. One night of passion when you’re trying to find comfort during a storm is one thing; agreeing to have a relationship is something else entirely.
But there’s no point in worrying about it now; we have other things to worry about, like finding our way to civilization and getting back to the mainland.
Luckily, there’s a path from the cabin that we didn’t spot last night that heads westward into the trees, so we set off along it, still stunned that the fury of the storm has completely abated.
It’s a beautiful day. It’s early so it’s not too hot, but the sun shines down on us with gentle rays, the dark clouds moving away behind us. We walk quietly for a while, close to each other, not touching. The trees on either side of us stretch up to the sky—pōhutukawa, mānuka, and kōwhai, dense karo, spiky harakeke plants, and small pockets of Nikau palms.
Tūī birds give their distinctive calls from the tops of the trees, occasionally visible with the white bobble at their throats. Pīwakawaka or fantails jump between the branches, several kererū or wood pigeons flap slowly by, and at one point two rosellas swoop past us—parakeets with bright red heads, yellow and green bodies, and blue wings.
“Aw,” Zoe says, pointing to where two rabbits are nibbling grass in a small clearing.
“Could be us,” I tease.
“Except that it looks as if they’re getting along,” she says with a laugh, “and not annoying the hell out of each other.”
It’s true that is how we’ve been for the past few years—flirting without acknowledging it, driving each other crazy. What happened last night felt inevitable; the only puzzle is to discover what happens next.
Ahead of us, the forest appears to be coming to an end, and we emerge from the line of trees to a wide-open grassy plateau, dotted with sheep that stare at us as if astonished to see people up here in their deserted playground.
“Carry on west?” Zoe asks, and I nod. The sun behind us, we continue walking along the rough path. We pass a group of sheds that, although deserted, gives us hope that the island isn’t completely empty, round another group of trees, then discover that the view opens out before us. The island stretches away, long and thin, the woodland mainly cleared, leading to—at the end in the distance—a small settlement with about half a dozen houses that line the coast.
“Civilization!” Zoe says enthusiastically. She goes to walk forward, then stops as she discovers I’m standing still.
“Let’s go back to the cabin,” I say. “I’ll buy it from the Department of Conservation. Let’s live there for the rest of our days and grow old and gray together. Let’s not go back to the world.”
Her lips curve up, and she moves closer to me. “What’s the matter?” she asks softly.
I swallow, looking at her green eyes, beautiful and bright in the early sun. “Last night was perfect.”
“Hardly,” she says with a laugh. “We were soaked through, had hardly any food, and were squeezed together on a tiny bunk.”
“That’s what I meant. There wasn’t anything else to distract us. Nobody else interfering. Nothing to spoil the moment.”
“Apart from the gale-force winds and the torrential rain.”
“Apart from that, yes.”
Her green eyes search mine. “The danger of the storm made the fact that we were together seem precious, I know. Sunlight is always brighter when it’s contrasted with shadow.”
“That’s very poetic.”
She shrugs. She looks down at her feet for a moment. Then, eventually, she looks back up at me. “Are you worried about what’s going to happen next?”
“It’s crossed my mind.”
She sucks her bottom lip, looking away across the plateau. “Can we talk about it once we’re back?”
“Of course.”
“It’s just… I need to think…”
“I know.”
She looks back at me. “Last night was amazing. And I don’t mean the storm.”
I study her face, thinking how beautiful she is.
She lifts a hand to my face. “I could fall heavily for you, Joel. I’ve known that all along. And I just need to make sure that’s what I want before I jump in with both feet. Does that make sense?”
Conflicting emotions spiral through me—joy at her admission, frustration that she’s making me wait, and sadness that there’s a possibility she might end up saying no. But I can’t force her to love me. She told me, You need to let go of the feeling that if you’re not in control, your life is going to fall apart. I’m going to have to give up the tiller, and let the wind take me where it pleases.
“Come on,” she says softly, taking my hand. “Not far now.”
It takes us about half an hour to cross the plateau. We’re just closing in on the houses when we realize we finally have a signal on our phones.
“Thank God,” I say. “I’ll call Manu and get a boat to pick us up.”
“Okay. I’m going to call my parents, if that’s all right.” She walks a few feet away, dialing.
Manu answers in two rings, obviously sees my name on his screen, and yells, “Bro! Jesus, you’re alive! Where are you?”
“We’re on Moturoa Island. We got caught in the storm coming back from Waewaetorea Island. We made it as far as the Black Rocks, but we had to abandon the boat. I anchored it, but I’m guessing it foundered.”
“No, it was found just after dawn by the coastguard. Fuck me, we thought you were dead.”
“We swam to shore and spent the night in the cabin.”
“We were all just about to leave to search the islands.”
“Who’s we?”
“The BOI office. There’s about twenty of us here at the marina and loads of other people who wanted to help. They’re okay,” he yells, presumably to the crowd, and then I hear a huge cheer, which makes me smile.
“Joel,” he says, coming back to the phone, “I called Fraser as soon as the coastguard let us know. He was going to call your parents and Zoe’s parents, then fly up to help look for you.”
“Fuck, right, I’d better ring them all.”
“I’m sorry, I thought they should know.”
“It’s fine, I appreciate you doing that. Can you send someone to pick us up? We’re on the southwest end of the island.”
“There’s a jetty there if you go past the trees. I’ll bring the other boat and come out and meet you there.”
“Thanks, bro.”
“Joel… I’m so glad you’re okay.”
I push a stone with my shoe. “Yeah, me too.”
“If I’ve been overly competitive and pigheaded about the awards and the promotion, I’m really sorry.”
I smile. “No more than I have. It’s all good.”
“All right. I love you, bro, you know that.”
We’ve been competitive ever since we met, both too ambitious to admit we actually quite like and admire each other. Why is it that it takes a disaster like this to force men to admit their feelings? “Me too,” I whisper, a lump appearing in my throat. I clear it and joke, “You want to braid my hair now?”
He laughs. “Yeah, okay. See you shortly.” He ends the call.
I study the phone for a moment, then glance over at Zoe. She’s deep in conversation, facing away from me. Leaving her to it, I dial Fraser’s number. Once again, it only rings twice and then he answers.
“Joel?” he demands, sounding astounded.
“It’s me. Zoe and I are okay.”
“Holy shit…” I imagine him running his hand through his floppy hair. “Oh my God… Manu said they found your boat…”
“Yeah, we had to abandon it. Look, I’m going to call Mum and Dad and add them to the call, okay?”
“Yes, of course.”
I do it quickly, merging the calls so we’re all talking together. Of course then it becomes a complicated conversation with everyone talking at once, but eventually I get them to calm down, and I explain what happened.
“We’re all right,” I finish, “just a few bumps and bruises. Manu’s going to pick us up shortly.”
“Oh Joel.” Mum starts crying.
“Hey, come on,” Dad says, and I picture him with his arm around her, giving her a squeeze. “I told you he’d be okay, didn’t I? That God would look after him?”
I look across the island to the view of the Pacific stretching away from me. In the distance, I see an orca’s tail lift gracefully out of the water before disappearing beneath the surface. Dad would never admit that I had a hand in my own survival. God always gets the credit.
“I’m so glad you’re all right,” Mum says softly through sniffs. “These last couple of hours have been horrendous. We were so worried.”
“I was just about to get on the plane,” Fraser says. “Do you still want me to fly up? I don’t mind.”
“No, of course not. We’re both fine. But thank you.” I’m touched that he would have done that for me.
“Where are you now?” Dad asks.
“On one of the islands. Luckily it had a DOC cabin, and we were able to spend the night there.”
“Nice,” Fraser says.
“Shut up.”
“I was just commenting on how lucky you were to find shelter.”
“Yeah, right.” Even though I’m twenty-eight, I’m still uncomfortable at discussing the fact that I spent the night with Zoe in front of my parents, so I say, “I’m guessing Elora doesn’t know?”
“No,” Fraser says, “she’s still on the cruise with Linc. I think they’re landing at Milford Sound tonight.”
“When’s he flying back?” I ask.
“Monday, I think.”
We’re all quiet for a moment. I can feel Dad’s disapproval and resentment all the way from Hanmer Springs.
Normally I wouldn’t interfere. I learned long ago that I’ll never change my father’s opinion of Linc, and he would never alter the way he thinks just because of something I said.
But Zoe and I have had a brush with our own mortality several times over the past few days, and it’s given me a sense of carpe diem I don’t usually have.
“Give him a break, Dad,” I say. “He has real feelings for Elora, and she for him.”
“I’m not interested,” Dad says abruptly. “If he hadn’t done what he did, Elora wouldn’t have gone to that party, and everything would be different.”
“You don’t know that,” I snap, tired of the old argument. “Zoe told me something this morning. She said that every day we come to forks in the road that force us to make decisions, and every one has the chance to end positively or negatively. She said that Elora made the decision to go to the party, and to drink the punch, just like I made the decision not to fly up and join her, and you made the decision not to drive up and pick her up. But she said that none of us was to blame for what happened. Saying that we’re to blame takes away Elora’s agency in a way. The only people responsible were the ones who hurt her. And it doesn’t come easily to me, but I think she’s right. We’ve both lived with this guilt for too long, Dad. It’s time we moved on.”
They’re all silent for a moment, maybe as surprised at the fact that I’ve spoken up as they are about what I’ve said.
Then Dad says, “Well, I’ve got work to do. I’m very glad you’re okay, son.”
It’s the best I’m going to get, and I stifle a sigh, hoping that once he’s prayed on it, he’ll come to realize I’m right. “Yeah, we’re all good. Look, don’t tell Elora, okay? Not yet. Maybe after Linc’s gone.”
“All right,” Dad says.
“Are you coming down soon?” Mum asks. “I’d like to see you.”
My heart softens. She’s been through hell so many times—first with Elora, then with her own health. Luckily she’s recovered well from her breast cancer, but it’s been a bumpy road, and I hate to think I’ve caused her such worry. Going to see her is the least I can do. “Yes, of course. I’ll fly down tomorrow.”
I glance across at Zoe, who’s still talking. When she looks at me, I blow her a kiss. She smiles but turns away, hiding her face from me.
I sigh. “Okay, well I’ll see you soon.”
Mum and Dad send their love, then end their call, leaving me with Fraser.
“Glad you’re okay,” he says. “How’s Zoe?”
“She’s okay. She’s had a tough few days.” I tell him about her regulator failing.
“Wow,” he says. “So you’ve saved her life twice.”
“Nah, not really, it wasn’t like that.”
He’s quiet for a moment. Then he says, “Joel, don’t overthink it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know what you’re like. Now you’re worried that she’s going to feel she’s in your debt, and if she agrees to go out with you when you get back, that’s the only reason.”
I give a wry smile. “That didn’t even cross my mind.”
“Liar, I know you better than that. She’s always been crazy about you, bro.”
I say goodbye and end the call, then look back out over the ocean. The orca has vanished. The sea is calm now, a far cry from the chaos of the past few days.
I glance at Zoe again. She’s still talking quietly, and there’s a tender look on her face as she says, “I know, sweetie, I miss you too.” I think she’s talking to Rory.
Her eyes find mine. Something passes between us, carried on the early morning sea breeze, unspoken but undeniable.
After everything we’ve been through, a quiet resolution settles within me. Maybe God did have a hand in our rescue, but I prefer to believe it was our perseverance that got us to safety. Either way, I feel a strength I didn’t have before. I’ve spent too long doubting myself, holding back because of guilt or fear.
Zoe suggested control is futile, but I don’t agree. Not every fork in the road is the right one, but you still have to choose your path. And I know which one I’m taking.
I told her I always get what I want in the end, and I’m not ready to admit I was wrong. I don’t want to be like my father and believe our decisions are out of our control. I want her. And I’m going to do everything I can to make sure I don’t lose her.