Chapter Twenty-Three
Joel
It’s clear from the moment I pick Zoe up that something’s happened since the last time I saw her. Despite her trying to cover it with makeup, her pale face is blotchy, and her red eyes have dark shadows beneath them. She’s obviously been crying.
I don’t comment on it, though, sensing she’s not quite ready to talk. Instead, I chat for a bit about Greenfield, telling her about the school and my life growing up on its grounds. I didn’t personally go to school there—Fraser and I went to a ‘normal’ school about fifteen minutes away, but we spent a lot of our free time with the students there, as Dad hoped we’d have a civilizing influence on those kids who hadn’t been taught that love and respect are more important than keeping face.
“Your dad was lucky the two of you weren’t beaten to a pulp,” Zoe comments. “It would have been easy for kids like that who are used to being in gangs to pick on nice guys like you.”
“Yeah, it never happened,” I reply. “Kids who came to the school had been taken away from their friends and family, so they were immediately on the back foot. The teachers came down quickly and harshly on any attempt to create gangs, and guys who were looking for trouble were soon separated. All the students were kept extremely busy—there wasn’t time for them to cause too much havoc. Not every kid was turned around, of course. But most of them realized they were being given a second chance. They had all kinds of opportunities here to build a new life for themselves—to get training and education, and to get a proper job, and the majority took advantage of it.”
“And now Elora’s going to marry one of them.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, a right reprobate. Linc was moody and resentful when he first arrived. He was fourteen, and it’s a strange age—technically you’re still a kid, but you’re so desperate to be grown up, and you don’t understand why people are talking to you as if you’re a child.”
Zoe looks out of the window and studies the fields flashing by, and the mountains in the distance, snow-topped despite it being summer. I glance at her, then return my gaze to the road.
“Not far now,” I say.
We follow the Waiau River through the gorge it cut through the Tekoa Range of high ridges. I’ve been jet boating and white-water rafting on the river with Dad and groups of students, and he also used to take us to the hot springs and out into the forest too. It’s a beautiful area, and as we emerge from the mountains, the landscape opens up to a wide plateau, the town seated at the base of Conical Hill, which I’ve walked up many times.
I turn off before we get to the town, though, and follow the signposts for Greenfield. Eventually the gates to the school appear on our left, and I pass through those, then drive slowly along the lane, past the football and rugby pitches and tennis courts, past the school buildings, down the hill, and around a copse of trees to Chatterton River.
The house sits on the slope above the river, and as I park out the front, three dogs come racing out—two chocolate Labradors and a Spaniel pup.
“Oh they’re gorgeous,” Zoe says as she gets out and lets the dogs lick her hands. “What are their names?”
“The Labs are Pinky and Perky Nana,” I say, naming two Kiwi chocolate bars as I bend to fuss them. “The Spaniel’s called Howard.”
“Don’t tell me—after Howard Carter?”
I grin as she names the discoverer of Tutankhamen’s tomb. “Yep.”
“I should have guessed. I bet you’re all bonkers about archaeology in this house.”
“Yeah, we all got it from Dad. He would have been an archaeologist if he hadn’t gone into the church.” I straighten as Mum appears in the doorway. “Come on,” I say to Zoe, and I take her hand and lead her toward the house.
“Hello, you two,” Mum says, eyes sparkling as she looks at me. She lost a lot of weight while she was fighting her breast cancer, but she’s starting to put some of it back on now, and her blonde hair is growing back and is cut into a short bob. “You must be Zoe,” she says. “Welcome to Greenfield.”
“Thank you.” Zoe goes up and shakes hands with her.
“Come in,” Mum says. “Boys, leave her alone.” She pushes the dogs away and leads us into the house.
We toe off our shoes and follow her into the living room. The whole place smells of baking, which makes me feel five years old again. The house is like a big farmhouse, all open plan, with bare floorboards, an open log fire in the winter, colorful throws over the sofa and chairs, and lots of cushions of various sizes strewn around the room, as well as the three dog beds. There are a few cats about somewhere, too, and the parrot—Jack Sparrow—squawks and says, “Give us a kiss!” as Zoe walks by, making her laugh.
“Don’t tell me, you taught it that,” she teases.
I chuckle. “No, actually that was Fraser.”
She smiles, but her attention is caught by the man sitting at the kitchen table. He was reading, but he stands now as she approaches and holds out his hand.
“Zoe,” he says, “how perfectly delightful to meet you at last. We’ve heard so much about you.” Atticus Bell is tall and silver-haired, with an authoritative manner that brooks no argument. He’d have made a great police or army officer in another lifetime.
“Oh…” She gives me an amused glance as she shakes his hand. “And there’s me thinking Joel forgets my name as soon as we’re apart.”
“Not at all,” Dad says. “Please, come and sit down. Clemmie’s made some scones, haven’t you, Clem?”
“I have,” Mum says, “with jam and cream. Would you prefer tea or coffee, dear?”
“Coffee, please.” Zoe takes a seat at the pine table. The kitchen is large and comfortable, with hand-written labels on the hundreds of pots of spices on the shelf, well-used wooden spoons and spatulas in a big jar that says, ‘Aroha’ with a load of hearts around it, and lots of sealed containers with homemade cakes, muffins, and pies that Mum can dip into whenever the many visitors they have call in.
I make the coffee while she places a plate of scones and the pots of whipped cream and strawberry jam on the table. Dad has always been able to turn on the charm, and I listen to him chatting with Zoe, teasing her a little and making her laugh. I want her to like him, but I feel a twinge of resentment that she’s obviously falling under his spell. He’s like the sun, larger than life, and when you’re around him, it’s impossible to do anything but live in his shadow.
“Joel was telling us how you’ve had quite the diving experience this week,” he says. “A free-flowing regulator can be a scary thing.”
“It was,” she confirms. “I did panic, I have to say. We were thirty meters down and suddenly it seemed a long way up. Luckily Joel was there to save the day.”
“I’m sure you didn’t need rescuing,” Dad says. “It’s amazing how resourceful we become when our lives are at stake.”
As usual, he refuses to accept I might have had a hand in it. I know better than to say anything, though, and just bring over the coffee cups, placing them on the table before taking a seat opposite her.
But to my surprise, Zoe says, “I’m afraid I have to argue with you there. I can honestly say, hand on my heart, that if it wasn’t for Joel I’d be in a watery grave right now. He was so incredibly calm, and he immediately gave me his primary regulator.”
“Well that’s a mistake right there,” Dad says. “You’re never supposed to do that, Joel, you should have known better than that. What if there had been something wrong with your octopus?”
“You taught us to always put others before ourselves,” I point out. “I didn’t even think about it.”
It’s true, and he can’t argue with that. He frowns, breaking open a scone and scooping jam and then cream onto each half. “Even so, it was a dangerous thing to do.”
“It was,” Zoe says, “and he still did it unthinkingly. And all those records he holds for freediving—your son is absolutely amazing.”
I blink, unused to receiving such a brazen compliment. Mum smiles as she bites into her scone. Dad just looks amused.
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he scolds. “He won’t be able to get his head out of the door.”
“He deserves every ounce of praise I can give him,” Zoe says. “He’s saved my life twice this week. You’ve done such a fantastic job bringing him up. He’s a real credit to you, sir.”
Dad’s expression softens as he looks at her. “That’s a nice thing to say.”
She shrugs with her characteristic nonchalance. “I mean it. He’s a sweetie.”
I love the way she’s so open when she’s like this, so warm and friendly and unafraid of what other people think of her. If only she would be as open with her personal life, we’d have no problems at all.
“What did you think of his award?” Zoe asks. “Wasn’t that fantastic?”
Mum’s eyebrows rise. “What award?”
My eyes meet my father’s. Clearly, he didn’t tell her.
“He won the ANZAS Archaeological Fieldwork Award,” Zoe says brightly. “For his work at the Rangitoto Ships Graveyard.”
“Joel,” Mum says, “why didn’t you tell us?”
Zoe glances at me, no doubt waiting for me to reveal that I told my father, and it’s his fault that Mum doesn’t know.
But I just shrug and say, “I forgot.”
“You forgot,” Mum scolds. “Honestly, Joel.”
“He’s the youngest ever winner of the award,” Zoe says. “Oh stop it,” she adds as I glare at her. “You should be shouting about it from the rooftops.”
“We don’t believe in boasting about our accomplishments in this house,” Dad points out. “It’s not exactly humble.”
“True,” Zoe says. “That’s what he’s got me for.” She wrinkles her nose at me and winks, then has another bite of her scone, leaving a whipped-cream mustache on her top lip.
“When’s your interview?” Dad asks me.
“Monday,” I reply.
“It’s a good position,” Dad says. “Have you asked Fraser to run through the interview with you?”
I try not to bristle at the thought that he thinks I need Fraser’s help. “We’ve talked about it.”
“It sounds like a great job,” Zoe says, “but it’s a real shame that it takes you away from the thing you love doing most—diving and going on excavations.”
“He’s twenty-eight,” Dad says, “and it’s about time he settled down and stopped gallivanting around the country. We’re hoping you can help there, too, Zoe.”
“Yes,” she says, “he’s a terrible gallivanter.”
I give her a wry look and eat my scone.
“So tell us about yourself,” Mum says, “we know you work at the museum with Elora. You’re an archaeologist, too?”
Zoe nods. “Although much more office-based than Joel. I haven’t been on many excavations, which was why the dive on the wreck was such a treat. Elora and I are taking the same master’s degree at the moment in heritage management. I’m concentrating on conservation.” She has another bite of her scone. “I understand that Linc proposed to her yesterday.”
Mum glows. “Yes, he used the Bell Ring. It was so romantic.”
“How wonderful,” Zoe says. She glances at Dad. “You must be thrilled. Linc was an old pupil of yours, wasn’t he? Elora told me that Linc said you were like a father to him when he was growing up.”
It’s a very diplomatic thing to say. Dad’s lips curve up—I think he suspects she’s not as innocent as she’s making out—but he just says, “It was good to see him again, although it’ll be sad if he takes our little girl away.” He looks at Mum, and she drops her gaze to her scone. They’ve obviously had words about it. No doubt Dad expressed disapproval, and Mum tried to stand up for Elora.
“It’s always tough, isn’t it, when kids move away,” Zoe says. “But what an opportunity for Elora—to go to Europe. Linc will take her to see all kinds of historical sites, and she’ll get to go on proper digs, prehistoric and Roman and medieval. It’ll be fantastic for her, and I’m sure she’ll come back often to visit. I’m so envious I could spit! I’d love to go to Europe.”
I eat the rest of my scone, trying not to smile as she continues to chat to my parents, disarming and charming with every sentence. She’s a real sweetheart. And more than ever now, I just want to get her on her own and kiss her senseless.
So when we’ve finished our coffee and scones, I say, “I think we might go for a walk in the forest.”
“Sure,” Dad says. “Will you take Howard? He’s not been out for a while.”
“Yeah, okay.” The Spaniel in tow, Zoe and I head to the front door, put our shoes on, and go out into the sunshine.
The path bears left, following the course of the river. I open the gate, let Howard through, hold it for Zoe, then close it, and we head for the cool quiet of the woods.
*
Zoe
We walk slowly, our shoes crunching through the dried leaves. Howard lollops along, his big ears flapping.
“It’s funny to think you grew up here,” I say, taking Joel’s hand when he holds it out to me.
“It wasn’t a bad place to be a kid.”
“I’ll say. Wellington’s great, but I’d have killed to live somewhere like this.”
“Yeah, it’s cool, although we always said we’d have loved to be in the city. There’s so much to do.”
“I suppose the grass is always greener,” I admit.
We’re surrounded by trees now. There’s a pathway through the forest, but the undergrowth on either side is thick and lush, and Howard snuffles through the dead leaves and fallen twigs, looking for rabbits. The air smells clean and fresh.
Joel stops walking, turns me to face him, and pulls me toward him. “Hello, beautiful,” he says.
My lips curve up. “Hello.”
He touches his lips to mine. “You said some nice things in there about me.”
I hope I didn’t go overboard. I was incensed by his father’s casual offhandedness about Joel’s courage and the fact that Atticus hadn’t told his wife that their son had won the award. “Did I? That’s weird. Don’t worry, normal service will be resumed later.”
He chuckles and kisses me again, then wraps his arms around me and kisses me properly. When he eventually moves back, I look up at him with dreamy eyes, giving a little sigh.
“How are you doing?” he murmurs, taking my face in his hands and stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. “You look pale.”
I drop my gaze. “I’m okay.”
“Come on, Zo. You’ve obviously been crying. You look unhappy. I hope it’s not because of me.”
“Of course not.” Well, not in the way he means it anyway.
He kisses my nose. “I brought you here because I wanted you to meet my parents, and because this place is important to me. I wanted to let you into my life in the hope that you’d do the same for me. I want to make a go of this, Zoe. I want you in my life, permanently. But it’s not going to work unless we’re both open and honest with one another.”
“I know.” I bite my bottom lip. I knew this was coming, but even so, the words won’t come, held back behind a barrier of fear.
“What are you afraid of?” he asks softly.
“That you won’t want me when I tell you the rest.”
“Try me.”
Still, I gnaw my bottom lip, my gaze sliding to his throat. I shouldn’t have come here. This isn’t going to work. I don’t want to open up and confess. I wish I hadn’t told him any of it.
He moves back and takes my hand again, and we continue walking. I wonder whether he realizes it’s easier when I don’t have to look at him.
“I know it’s about what happened when you were young,” he prompts. “And that when you told Charles, he didn’t react well.”
“Understatement of the year,” I mumble.
We walk for about another minute while I wrestle with myself. I know I need to tell him, but I just can’t find the words or the courage.
Eventually he stops again. I wait for him to scold me, to get impatient and give me an ultimatum. But instead he says, “Okay, if you can’t bring yourself to tell me, I’m going to guess.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
He looks into my eyes for a moment. “You were fourteen,” he says. “But probably looked older. Maybe it was a one-off, maybe not, but I’m guessing either you didn’t understand the importance of contraception, or he talked you into not using it. When you got pregnant, it shocked you and your family, especially your mum, who’s very religious. I’m thinking that maybe she took you away to have the baby. I’m guessing it might have been to your grandparents in Australia. When he was born, you were very unwell, physically, and maybe emotionally and mentally too. And the baby didn’t die. I think your mum made the decision that she was going to bring the baby up as her own, as your brother.”
I’m so shocked that I can’t speak. I stand there in the middle of the forest, my jaw near my knees, staring at him like an idiot.
“What… how…” I can’t form the words.
“I knew you must have been very young. I guessed fourteen because of the way you reacted when I mentioned Linc’s age,” he says. “And I thought that maybe Rory was your son when you were on the phone to him after the storm. You had an expression on your face… tender, motherly, and it sort of all fell into place.” His eyes hold the same calmness that they had when we were under the ocean.
“I can’t believe you’ve known since then.” My eyes prick with tears, and I press my fingers to my lips.
“Aw, it’s okay.” He pulls me into his arms and hugs me.
I bury my face in the crook of his neck. He knows? He’s known since then, and he still says he wants to be with me? I close my eyes, thinking about the look on Charles’s face when I told him, the disgust, the disappointment. I can’t believe Joel’s reaction is so different.
“What happened yesterday?” Joel asks. “I’m guessing you spoke to your parents about Rory?”
I sniff and move back, wiping beneath my eyes. “I asked Mum not to go to Darwin. I said it wasn’t fair for her to take Rory away from me. And I said I wanted to tell him the truth.”
“That you’re his mother?”
I nod.
He’s silent for a while. He takes my hand, and we turn and start walking again. I listen to the birds calling in the trees, letting him think about it.
Eventually he says, “What did your mum say?”
“She said no, and threw me out.”
His eyebrows lift. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. I threatened to tell Rory the truth, and she told me to leave.” My face flushes. “That was unfair of me, I know. But I was angry and resentful.”
“That’s understandable.”
“I wanted to force her hand. To make her see how much I was hurting.”
“I’m so sorry.” He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my fingers. “You’ve been through so much, and it’s not fair.”
I take a deep, shaky breath, and let it out slowly. His sympathy means more to me than he can ever know.
“I’ve been thinking about going to a lawyer,” I blurt out.
Joel doesn’t react. He walks quietly for a bit, then says, “For what purpose?”
“I don’t know… to become his mother legally, I suppose.”
His hand tightens on mine for a moment. “You still believe getting it all out in the open is the right thing to do?”
“He’s my son. I think he should know the truth.”
We walk in silence again for a while. The quiet of the forest calms my roaring emotions. He was right; this is a good place to have this conversation.
“What do you think I should do?” I ask quietly.
He hesitates. “It’s not my place to say. Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”
I swallow hard. “I appreciate that. But I’d like to know your opinion.”
He lifts my hand and kisses my fingers. “Okay. That’s fair. Did you have to sign adoption papers at the time?”
“I was high on medication for pain and depression, and I was fourteen, for Christ’s sake. I signed all the papers without knowing all the implications, or how I’d feel years down the line. That’s got to count for something.”
“Maybe. But I think if they’ve formally adopted him, the courts won’t overturn that decision.”
I think about that. “Okay, but surely they’d take into account how young I was, and that I didn’t have a say in it? Maybe they’ll give me joint custody? They could at least stop her from moving to Darwin?”
“Possibly.” He squeezes my hand. “But honey, I think you have to think very carefully about whether you want to start something you’re not going to be able to stop. Once the toothpaste is out of the tube, you’re not going to be able to get it back in. If you tell Rory you’re his mother, it’s going to change everything.”
“I know, but he’s so unhappy at the moment about going to Darwin—it’s not as if I’d be disrupting a happy and settled boy. I was thinking… I thought that maybe he could stay in Wellington. He could live with me here. I could even try to adopt him. I looked into it—it is possible for someone to be adopted twice.”
“I can see that happening if the first adoptive parents aren’t looking after the child. But in this case? If your mum decides to fight you all the way? I can’t see the courts giving you custody over your mum, honey. I think the best you could hope for would be joint custody, but I don’t know how that would work if she’s planning to leave the country. She sees him as her child now, and if she truly believes it would be best for him to go with her, she’s not going to let him go easily.”
My heart slowly sinks. I suppose I’d hoped he’d be behind me and back me all the way, but deep down, I know he’s thinking carefully about this, and he’s making good sense. I want him to say, ‘Of course the courts will give you custody, what a great idea, why don’t we get a big house together and Rory can come and live with the two of us and we’ll be one big happy family.’ But it’s not going to happen like that. It’s a fantasy that’s not going to become a reality in this lifetime. If I persist with it, Mum will fight me all the way, and all I’ll do is tear the family apart even more than it already is, and maybe I still won’t end up with Rory.
I’m never going to be his mother. I lost him when I was fourteen, and maybe it’s time I finally came to terms with the fact that I’m never going to get him back.