Chapter Twenty-Four
Linc
A little while later, while I make us both a coffee, Elora calls Fraser. She puts the phone on speaker and perches on the edge of the sofa. She’s wearing my T-shirt, which looks much better on her than it does on me. I’m wearing only my boxers. She likes that.
Fraser answers the phone after a couple of rings. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me,” Elora says.
“Is everything okay?”
She rolls her eyes. “Why does everyone ask me that every time I call?”
He’s silent for a moment, and I imagine him running his tongue across his teeth. “Sorry,” he says eventually. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”
“Are you still in Queenstown? How did Linc get on? Is he okay?”
Touched that he asked, I bring the coffee cups over to the sofa and sit beside Elora.
“Yes, we went to see his father, and it went very well,” Elora says, flashing me a smile as she takes her cup. “His father is lovely, and the family have welcomed him with open arms, so he’s very happy.”
“Is he behaving himself?”
She meets my amused gaze and shakes her head, and we both stifle a laugh.
“He’s here, and you’re on speakerphone, just so you know,” she says.
“Hey, Fraser,” I say cheerfully.
“If you think I’m going to be embarrassed about that, I’m not,” Fraser replies. “And the question still stands.”
“Mind your own business,” Elora says, half-amused, half-irritated. “Look, we went to Arrowtown today and met the son of the antique dealer. He sold what he’s sure was the Bell Ring back in 2015 to a woman from Milford Sound. We can’t find a phone number, but Linc’s cruise ends up in Milford Sound, so he’s asked whether I’d like to go with him, and then when we get there we can go and see her.”
“Go with him on the cruise?”
“Yes.”
“They have spare cabins?”
Elora snaps. “For fuck’s sake, Fraser. I’m twenty-four, remember? This is Linc we’re talking about. Of course he’s not behaving himself, and I’m loving every minute of it.”
“Jesus,” he says.
“We’re having sex, and it’s magnificent, and I’m hoping we’ll have lots more of it on the boat.”
He’s silent for ten seconds. Her eyes meet mine, mutinous at first, then, as the moment draws out, she pulls an eek face. “Too much?” she mouths. I try not to laugh.
“Ship,” Fraser says eventually.
“What?”
“I presume it has a commander and a crew, and an engine, and goes out to sea. That makes it a ship, not a boat.”
“Jesus, if I wanted a dictionary definition I’d have Googled it. I’m calling you because I want to know if I can take the rest of the week off. We get to Milford Sound on…”
“Friday,” I say.
“Friday, and Linc flies out on…”
“Monday the fifth.”
“Monday,” she says, “so I’ll be back at work by then.”
I wait for Fraser to tell her no, that he expects her back at work tomorrow, which will no doubt prompt an argument, with Elora attempting to stand her ground.
But to my surprise, he says, “No worries. Take as long as you need.”
Elora and I exchange glances, our eyebrows rising. “Is Zoe back?” she asks.
“Nope.”
“So you only have Hallie there?”
“Yeah,” he says. “It’s not a problem.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and so can Elora, judging by the way her eyes widen.
“No…” she says, lengthening the word dramatically. “Are you and Hallie—”
There’s a click. He ended the call.
She rolls her eyes again and tosses the phone onto the sofa. “Charming.” She has a mouthful of coffee. “Do you think they’re…”
“Oh, definitely,” I say. “His eyes lit up when you told him she’d broken up with her boyfriend.”
“God, why do I miss all the signs? I’m so blind to this stuff. Linc, don’t ever be subtle with me.”
“I won’t. I’m looking forward to having sex with you again.”
She bursts out laughing. “Me too,” she says, and then she snuggles up to me and lifts her face so I can kiss her.
*
The next day, Wednesday, we rise leisurely, check out, and drive the Lexus back to the airport.
“What time’s our flight to Christchurch?” Elora asks.
“Around ten thirty,” I reply, leading the way to the gate.
“Ooh, another charter flight?” she says as we skip all the queues and check in at the empty desk.
“Kinda. Henry’s sent his company’s private jet to pick us up.”
Her eyes widen, and delight fills her features. “We’re going to see Henry?”
“Yeah, is that okay? We don’t board the cruise until around four.”
“Of course! I haven’t seen him in years. I’d love to catch up.”
“He’s going to show us around Kia Kaha, and we can catch some lunch before we head off.”
She beams happily, and I smile as the flight attendant comes to collect our bags and lead us to the waiting plane. I follow Elora up the steps. Wow, Henry’s company must really be doing well. It’s an eight-seater, two tables on either side, each with four leather chairs. Elora declares she doesn’t mind sitting backward and slides into one side, and I sit opposite her.
The flight attendant gives us a brief safety talk, we buckle ourselves in, and before long we’re in the air. When she discovers that we haven’t had breakfast, the attendant offers to make us a bacon sandwich and a coffee, which we agree to eagerly. She goes off to make it, and Elora and I smile at each other across the table.
Last night, making love in the missionary position, while seemingly straightforward, was a big step forward for her, I think. I was worried about provoking bad memories, but from her reaction to me, that didn’t seem to happen, and if anything she threw herself into the moment with gusto.
I think about her lifting her arms above her head, inviting me to pin her down. I don’t know if that was her intention, but she certainly didn’t complain when I did it.
“You’re thinking about sex,” she says.
I blink and focus on her. “What?”
“Your eyes have glazed over.”
I grin. “I was thinking about last night.”
“Which bit?”
I don’t reply, but I hold her gaze, and she blushes slowly.
“You’re so wicked,” she mumbles, leaning back as the attendant comes over with our lattes.
I chuckle. “How are you feeling this morning?” I ask once the attendant has returned to the kitchen area.
Elora sips her coffee. “I’m good,” she says softly. “Thank you.” She nibbles her bottom lip. Then she says, “I appreciate you taking it slowly, and being patient with me.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“Last night… was fun.”
“It definitely was.”
“Next time… I think we can up it to fifty percent.”
“Fifty? You’re getting adventurous now.” I smile, though, glad she feels comfortable enough to voice her desires, and a little bit turned on at the thought of what fifty percent might entail.
“You’re letting the tiger loose,” she teases. “I wonder whether you’ll be able to cope with her?”
“I can always tie her to the bed,” I say wryly.
Her eyes flare.
We study each other silently, then lean back as the flight attendant comes over with our bacon sandwiches and places them before us. Once she’s retreated, we both take a big bite of the bread, bacon, cheese, and chutney, and chew while we continue to look at each other.
She lifts a crumb from her lip and sucks it from her fingers. “You said there wouldn’t be any tying down of any kind.”
“That was before you made the fifty percent comment.” When I mentioned handcuffs, and she semi-freaked out, I felt a sweep of guilt, and scolded myself for even suggesting anything involving restraining her. Despite teasing her, I still wouldn’t do it, not in the short amount of time we have together. But I couldn’t help myself, because I saw the way her eyes lit up before, the same way they’re doing this time. She likes the idea of handing over control to a man in bed, now she’s able to dissociate it from her assault. And I’m so glad I’ve helped her move on that way.
She sips her coffee, her eyes still full of excitement. “Do you actually own handcuffs?”
“No. But ties or scarves could serve a purpose and are more innocuous. And I wouldn’t have to worry about losing the key.”
She giggles. Then she takes another bite, looking at me with mischievous thoughtfulness. “Do you tie down all your girls?”
“In my harem, you mean?”
“All the girls you’ve been with?”
“All four of them? No.”
“You’re kidding me—you’ve only been with four girls?”
“I told you, just because I have tattoos, it doesn’t mean I’m a manwhore.”
She looks genuinely surprised though. “But you’re young and gorgeous. It makes no sense.”
I finish my sandwich, lean back, coffee cup in hand, and just smile.
“So… the first was Mona, in Cairo,” she says. “Was the second Sophia?”
“Yes.”
“You lived together?”
“For six months.”
She nods, her expression inscrutable. She’s being careful to hide whatever she’s feeling. “And after that? Were the next two in the UK?”
“Yes.”
“What were their names?”
“I never asked.”
“Linc!” She looks shocked.
I roll my eyes. “I’m joking… jeez. I met Alys on a dig in Scotland. We dated for over a year but never moved in together. The last one was called Eurydice.”
She laughs. “You’re kidding me.”
“Actually, no. She called herself CeeCee. She was fun.” The words are out before I can vet them, and Elora’s eyes flash.
“Fun?” she says. “Did she like playing Pictionary or something?”
I stifle a laugh, amused that she’s jealous. “She was just a friend. We only hooked up a few times.”
“Put it about, did she?”
I raise an eyebrow, and she looks down, chastised. “Sorry,” she mumbles.
I drink my coffee, pretending to be offended, although secretly I’m smiling.
She puts her face in her hands. “That was so rude. I really am sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
I chuckle. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Aw, don’t be nice. I hate that I said that. It’s not me at all.”
“Lora, sweetheart, it’s what happens when you like someone. You want them all to yourself. You feel jealous at the thought of anyone else touching them. It’s perfectly normal.”
She lowers her hands. “That would be acceptable if we were dating, but we’re not, and I don’t have any claim on you. I do know that. I don’t want you to think I’m being overly romantic.”
Her cheeks have flushed slightly. She was cute as a girl, but she’s beautiful now, her nose a little tip-tilted, her blue eyes large and gorgeous, her cheekbones high enough to give her face an attractive shape.
She’s jealous because she has feelings for me. I know she does. That makes me melt inside. I adore this woman. She drives me crazy. And suddenly I know it’s going to be impossible for me to leave her behind.
“You do have a claim on me,” I tell her.
She stares at me.
“You’re the only girl I got wings for,” I remind her.
Her gaze drops to my neck. “I wondered whether you had any tattoos inspired by other women.”
“No. Unless you count Boudicca and Cleopatra.”
Her eyes meet mine. We study each other for a long time. I feel the way I do when I spot something unusual on an excavation or in a museum—a tingle that starts at the back of my neck and travels all the way through me. A warning that there’s something special beneath the surface, something I need to investigate.
Elora opens her mouth to say something, but at that moment the flight attendant comes back to collect our plates and cups, and then the pilot announces we’ll be landing shortly, and the moment passes. But the memory of that feeling remains with me, and I make a mental note to think more about it later.
*
Henry’s waiting for us at the airport, and we spot him as we exit the gate. He’s Māori and was tall as a boy, and now he’s even taller with an impressive physique, but looks super sharp in an obviously expensive suit. I know that he married Juliette, one of his colleagues at Kia Kaha, and they have a baby. He’s alone right now, though, and he comes over and gives me a big bearhug that nearly breaks my spine.
“Linc,” he says in his deep, gruff voice. “It’s been a long time.”
“Too long,” I reply, feeling oddly emotional, the same way I did when I saw Joel and Fraser. It’s not an entirely positive emotion—seeing these old friends drags me back to my youth, a time when I was governed by anger and resentment, emotions I’ve mostly managed to put behind me now. But even so, it’s still good to see him.
“And Elora!” He stares at her, then comes forward to give her a hug. “My God, you’ve grown up.”
“It’s funny how everyone remains preserved in amber when you haven’t seen them for a while,” she says, hugging him back. “I keep forgetting you’re not all eighteen still.”
“No, unfortunately not.”
“And a daddy!” she says as we start walking out of the airport. “That’s amazing. I’m so pleased for you.”
He grins. “Yeah, best thing that ever happened to me, apart from Juliette, obviously.”
“How is the little one?”
“Adorable. Being a father is awesome. I can highly recommend it.” He looks at me. “No kids yet?”
“Need a wife first, preferably.”
“No news on that front?”
I smile. “Not yet.”
His gaze slides to Elora, who’s negotiating the curb with her case, then back to me. His eyes gleam, but he doesn’t say anything. I glare at him, and he gives a short laugh and leads the way across the road.
He unlocks a smart new Range Rover, and Elora and I put our cases in the boot. She gestures for me to climb in next to Henry, and then gets in the back. He starts the car and joins the traffic leading to the city.
“So Kia Kaha is going well?” I ask. I know that he and some friends set up the company that makes medical equipment—specifically exoskeletons and other devices that help people to regain their mobility and strengthen their limbs after illness or injury.
“Very well,” he says. “It’s great to see people walking out of the offices after coming in wheelchairs or on crutches.”
“It must be very rewarding,” Elora says.
“Much more honorable than digging up mummies and Viking ships,” I say, only half joking.
“Ah, it doesn’t work like that,” Henry says. “If it did, I’d be feeling guilty because I’m not actually saving lives like a heart surgeon does. What you guys do is essential—discovering and recording the past. You have to know where you come from to understand where you’re going, don’t you?”
“True,” I reply, glancing over my shoulder. Elora is smiling, and she winks at me.
Before long we’re winding our way through the streets of the city, occasionally getting a flash of the Avon River. Henry turns off not far from Hagley Park, stopping the car in front of an attractive building at the top of a terrace leading down to the river. We get out, and he locks our cases in the car and leads us across and into the building.
“It’s called a biophilic design,” he explains, “which means it integrates natural landscape features, and natural lighting and ventilation, and connects the occupants more closely to nature.”
“Oh Henry,” Elora says, “it’s beautiful.”
I have to agree. The foyer is open and spacious, with high ceilings and lots of glass admitting the bright sunshine, which means less electric light. The reception desk is an attractive curve fronted with wood that’s been carved into Māori patterns. A huge painting hangs on the wall of what looks like the creation myth of Papatūānuku and Ranginui. Pots of green ferns stand surrounded by piles of large round stones, and a fountain in the center rains down merrily onto a river channel that runs through the building and is crossed by various bridges.
“Yeah, I’m quite proud of it,” Henry says, leading the way across the foyer and into the offices. They all have glass walls, which increases the light and feel of being in a community rather than closeted away in individual spaces where you don’t get to see your co-workers.
He takes us through to the treatment rooms and shows us the impressive exoskeletons they’ve developed, and we get to watch a patient using one—with her permission—while Henry explains how it works. After that, he takes us back through to the management offices that open onto the terrace, overlooking the Avon, and we sit outside and have a coffee while we chat for a while.
I thought we were going out for lunch, but when it gets to twelve thirty, Henry explains that we’re going to join the rest of his team for a buffet lunch in the boardroom, because they all want to meet us. So Elora and I follow him down to the boardroom, and he introduces us to his colleagues—Alex, who appears to have taken on the CEO role even though he insists they’re all on equal footing, James, who’s head of finance, Tyson, who was the inspiration for the creation of the company after he had an accident and couldn’t walk, and finally Juliette—Henry’s wife, whose Indian heritage is evident in her fine features and the fact that she is wearing a sari and a bindi between her brows.
They’ve ordered in food—rolls, savories, and cakes—and we eat while we chat, the others asking questions about our time at Greenfield, and encouraging Elora and me to tell stories about Henry, which they all find most amusing. I get the feeling he doesn’t talk about himself much, so they seem to like this insight into his past.
Despite Elora telling me that she’s shy and doesn’t get out much, she’s relaxed in company, and asks lots of questions about their business, which the guys enjoy answering. It reminds me that she acts as a tour guide sometimes and makes me wonder what she might have achieved if it hadn’t been for the incident when she was eighteen. She might have flourished at Otago University, maybe even become a public speaker. I think she could have run her own company, with her knowledge and intelligence. I hate that those men took that away from her. I hope I’ve gone a small way to handing her back some of her control.
That makes me think of her sitting astride me, riding me with her head tipped back, and I shift in my seat. Keep it cool, Linc.
“So,” Alex says as two o’clock draws near. The plates hold piles of crumbs, and we’re all pleasantly full. “You’re off on a cruise, is that right?”
“A corporate one, yes,” I reply. “The Australian and New Zealand Archaeology Society yearly get-together. They thought it would be fun to host it on a ship this year and call in at some of the major sites in New Zealand and Australia on the way.”
“And you’re speaking?” he asks.
“Yes, on the two hoards of Roman coins I found, as well as recent developments in excavation in the UK.”
“You’re going with him?” Juliette asks, leaning over to help herself to one of the remaining sausage rolls.
Elora nods. “Around to Milford Sound, in the hopes of tracking down a family taonga .” It’s a Māori word that means treasure.
“That’ll be fun,” Juliette says. She bites into the sausage roll, her eyes dancing. “So… separate cabins?”
“Juliette!” Henry and Alex scold together. “That’s none of your business,” Henry reminds her. But they all look at us, intrigued and amused.
Elora pops a grape in her mouth. “Nope,” she replies, then gives a mischievous grin.
Henry chuckles. “It was only a matter of time.”
She frowns at him. “What do you mean?”
“He was always crazy about you,” Henry says, taking the last sausage roll before Juliette can claim it. “He used to doodle your name on his schoolbooks.”
“I did not,” I protest.
He grins, because he’s telling the truth and we both know it.
Elora looks at me, eyes wide. “Aw, Linc. You wrote my name on your book?”
I bear her mocking with a wry smile. “Yeah, yeah. You can tease me.”
“He used to write your initials, ERB, and put little love hearts around them,” Henry says, and everyone goes Awwww .
My face heats for the first time in about twenty years. “Shut up.” My lips curve up as they all laugh. I gesture at Elora. “I think that’s our cue to leave.”
We say goodbye to everyone and promise to keep in touch, then let Henry show us to the front door. “Thanks,” I tell him when we stop in the foyer. “It was great to see you again.”
“You too, bro.”
We exchange a big bearhug, and I laugh as he lingers, seemingly unwilling to let me go and unafraid to show it. Eventually, though, he releases me and gives Elora a hug, and then we go through the front doors and head down the steps.
It’s only just gone two, but we decide to go to the ferry, and we’ll get ourselves a coffee while we wait until they start boarding. I call for an Uber, and we wait by the curb for it to arrive.
“That was fun,” Elora says. “Great to meet the others.”
“They’re a nice crowd.”
“I miss Henry. He’s one of the good guys. I’m so glad he’s settled now—he seems very happy with Juliette.” There’s a touch of wistfulness on her features.
Time has moved on, and none of us is as young as we used to be. We’ve all gotten on with our lives, matured and grown up. I swallow against the tightness in my throat at the thought that I might not see Henry again. We were close once, he and I, with Joel and Fraser, and we’ve drifted apart, which is entirely my fault. I don’t want that to happen again.
I look away. Last time, I had no control over what happened, but this time the future is in my hands. If I walk away, it’ll be my choice, and I’ll have to live with the consequences. I love England and enjoy my life there. But returning to it means leaving Elora, and my friends, and the country I’d forgotten I loved.
There are no easy choices, and my heart aches at the thought that I’m going to have to make them, when the time comes. I knew this would happen, but I was cavalier with the decision to get involved with Elora, telling myself that Future Linc would deal with the fallout, and he’d be much better at it than me.
I’m such a fucking idiot.