Chapter Twenty-Eight
Elora
In the morning, by the time we’ve woken, showered, and dressed, the engines have stopped, and we discover we’ve arrived in Port Chalmers, about a twenty minutes’ drive from Dunedin.
We go out onto the balcony to check out the view. The port is busy and bustling, and we lean on the railing and watch the boats coming and going, and the passengers who are debarking, ready to board the buses to explore the city.
“There’s something thrilling and mysterious about traveling all through the night,” I say. “About walking out to see different scenery, as if you’ve been magically transported there by winged horses in the darkness.”
At first Linc rolls his eyes and grins, but when I continue watching the scene with a sense of wonder, he slides his arms around me and says, “Ah, I’m being cynical. I forget you haven’t traveled much.”
“At all.”
“At all. It’s the same on a plane or a train. Traveling is exciting. Strange cities and amazing scenery. People speaking other languages and behaving in ways so different from our own. I’d like to go to India, and South America, and Iceland, and discover the history of all those places.”
I rest my hands on his arms, enjoying the embrace, but sadness blooms inside me like a gray cloud on the horizon. I’m never going be the sort of person who’s comfortable traveling the world. I hyperventilated at the thought of going from Wellington to Queenstown. How would I be if, when I disembarked, I couldn’t understand what anyone was saying? Just the thought makes my pulse race.
Linc tucks his hand beneath my breasts, over my heart, and says, “Traveling is always scary. Things rarely go smoothly, but you learn to be flexible and adjust. You end up like Mohammed Ali, dancing like a butterfly, you know? That’s why I don’t like making plans. It’s like trying to balance on a raft in the ocean. You can’t just stand still—you have to make adjustments, counter the movement of the waves.”
“I’d be in the sea in seconds. You have to understand that about me, Linc.”
He kisses my shoulder. “It’s a skill that can be learned. Look at how far you’ve come already. Jumping off a platform into a chasm! Singing karaoke in front of a crowd. Being the first on a dance floor.”
“Against my will.”
“I’d never force you to do anything you didn’t secretly want to do.”
I turn in his arms. “I know,” I say softly, and I lift my face for his kiss. “You’re right. I’ve already done things with you that I never thought I’d be able to do in my life.”
“Like having sex in public?”
I snort. “Hardly in public. We’re completely secluded out here.”
He gestures forward. “There was a fishing boat out there, and I’m sure I saw the glint of a telescope lens.”
“Oh, don’t lie…”
“He would have had the perfect view of my ass,” he says, and laughs. “Guaranteed to put him in therapy.”
I giggle and slide my arms around him. “So are you going to tell me what seventy-five percent entails?”
“Nope.” He kisses my forehead.
“Oh, come on. You know that anticipation is almost as good as the thing itself.”
“Not this thing.” He smirks.
God, how does this guy know how to unravel me with just a look?
He opens his mouth to say something but stops as his phone rings in the pocket of his track pants. He pulls it out, says, “Unknown caller,” and answers it, “Hello? Yes, speaking.” He listens for a moment, and then his eyes widen as he meets my gaze, and a smile spreads over his face. “Oh… hello. No, of course I don’t mind, he said he was going to pass you my number. Yes, we’ve just arrived this morning. No, actually, we don’t have anything planned. I’d love to meet you.”
I’m guessing it’s his half-sister, Claire. I’m so thrilled that she wants to see him. I know it’s going to mean a lot to him.
“Four p.m.,” he says, which I know is the time we set sail this afternoon. He then looks at his phone’s screen to check the time, then puts it back to his ear. “Eleven sounds great. Are you sure you can get time off work? Ah okay, cool! Espresso Yourself, great name. Yes, Elora. Okay, we’ll see you then.” He laughs. “That’s true, actually. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He ends the call. “Apparently Edmund said she’ll be able to recognize me because I look like a younger version of him.” He smiles. He likes that.
“How exciting that you’re going to meet her,” I say. “I’m so pleased for you.”
“We,” he corrects, then he pulls an eek face. “I’m so sorry, I should have asked whether you minded doing this rather than sightseeing.”
“I don’t mind at all, but are you sure you wouldn’t rather go on your own?”
“No,” he says immediately. “I like having you there. You’re very good at smoothing over any awkward silences.”
“Linc, honey, there are never going to be any awkward silences when you’re around.”
“Not sure how to take that.”
“It’s a compliment.” I check the time. It’s just gone eight. “So where’s the coffee shop?”
“In the city center.”
“Well if we leave now we can have a look around first.”
“Sounds great.”
I collect my purse and Linc picks up his wallet, and we head out, taking the stairs down to Deck Four, then follow the path off the ship to the mainland.
“See I am a pirate,” he teases, gesturing for me to precede him, “making you walk the gangplank.”
I smile, concentrating on keeping my footing, and trying to stay calm at the thought of walking into a new city.
“You okay?” he asks, taking my hand.
“I can’t imagine doing this in another country. How did you get on a plane at eighteen and disembark in Cairo? Everyone would have been wearing different clothing, speaking a language you wouldn’t have understood. The smells, sights, and sounds would all have felt alien. How did you feel when you walked across the tarmac? Were you excited?”
“Terrified,” he says. “I’d never even been to the North Island.”
“Seriously?”
“Nope. I was trembling when I walked into the airport. But Mona was working for TAG, and she’d come to pick me up, and she was really nice and friendly. And it just got better from there.”
“How old was she?”
“Twenty-two.”
So four years older than him. He would’ve looked older, though, and he’d had the swagger and confidence of an older guy.
I feel a little comforted to think he’d also been afraid of change. Maybe he’s right and being flexible is a skill you can learn, or at least you become more able to adapt as time goes by.
A bus is waiting to transport us into the city, and we find a couple of seats and settle in. It follows the peninsula, with the long inlet that is Otago Harbour on our left, then turns off into the city, heading inland.
“It has a Scottish heritage, doesn’t it?” Linc asks me.
I nod. “Māori, Chinese, and Scottish. Its name comes from the Scottish Gaelic name for Edinburgh, Dùn èideann.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“Its Māori name is ōtepoti.” I’ve read a lot about it, as I was hoping to study here at one point. It’s a student city, with the University of Otago only about twenty minutes’ walk from the Octagon—an eight-sided plaza filled with trees and lawns, as well as several cafés.
The bus drops us right in the middle, and Linc takes my hand while we have a look at St. Paul’s Cathedral, then wander along George Street and its malls, looking at the shops.
As eleven o’clock approaches, we head back to the Octagon toward Espresso Yourself.
Linc goes quiet as we near, and I know him well enough now to understand that he’s nervous. It’s obviously been a shock to him to discover that he has a real, normal family, but I think it goes much deeper than that. It’s as if it’s changed him on a molecular level, fundamentally altering how he feels about himself. It’s only now that I realize just how lost and lonely he must have felt all these years, abandoned by Don and Nancy, and convinced he carried the parasite of Don’s anger and vitriol inside him, like mistletoe.
We get to the café, and Linc stops for a second. I wait for him to gather himself, sliding my hand into his. It’s strange for once being the one with the confidence to walk into a place.
“Come on, sunshine,” I say, smiling. “Let’s go and meet your sister.”
I lead him into the interior. It’s all open plan which fills it with light and space, making it a little easier for me.
“She said she’ll be wearing a red tee,” he says, his gaze going immediately to a woman who’s sitting with a guy to one side at a table for four. She spots him and stares, then slowly gets to her feet. Her lips curve up, and I see her give a short laugh as she obviously recognizes her father in his features.
I lead Linc across to the table, as the guy beside her rises, too. He’s holding a baby, just a few months old. Linc and Claire study each other, both seemingly lost for words. She’s a pretty young woman, with hair like her mother—a tad wild and curly, and although she’s tried to tame it in a bun, strands tumble around her face and stick out from the bun like rogue mattress springs.
“You must be Claire,” I say, seeing that Linc’s tongue-tied again. “I’m Elora, Linc’s friend. We’re so pleased to meet you.”
“I’m Gareth,” the guy next to her says, holding out his hand to me. He’s a few inches shorter than Linc but about the same age, with dark-blond hair cut in a similar fade, and a neat beard. “She doesn’t normally lose the power of speech like this.”
I laugh. “Neither does Linc.” We shake hands, and gradually, Linc and Claire do the same, both looking bashful at their shared muteness.
“Sorry,” she says, “Gareth’s right, I’m not normally stunned into silence, but oh my God, you look so like Dad it isn’t funny.”
“And you look like your mum,” Linc says, releasing her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you.” He looks at the baby in Gareth’s arms. “Edmund mentioned you’d had his first grandchild.”
“Yes, this is Lily, she’s three months old.”
“Your niece,” I say, and smile.
Linc blinks, clearly taken aback by the notion.
A waitress comes up with a menu, but I know there’s no hope of getting Linc to concentrate for long enough to read it, so I order us both a latte and a toasted bacon-and-egg panini. Claire and Gareth order breakfast and a second coffee, as apparently they’ve been here about fifteen minutes.
“She made us leave, like, half an hour early,” Gareth says, passing Lily to Claire as the baby begins to grumble.
“I was worried about traffic,” she protests. “Um… you don’t mind if I feed Lily at the table, do you?”
“Of course not,” Linc says.
Claire has a scarf around her shoulders, and she puts the baby to her breast while draping the scarf across her. Then she smiles at us. “I got here early because I didn’t want to miss you.”
“It’s a very strange situation,” Gareth adds.
“Tell me about it,” Linc says with feeling. “Less than a week ago, I had no idea that any of this was going to happen.”
“How did you find out?” Claire asks.
So Linc tells them the story, about coming back for his father’s funeral, his mother’s revelation, and deciding to try to find his real father, assuming it would be a long and arduous task, only for Edmund to be the first person he called.
“Dad said the DNA test was ninety-nine-point-nine percent accurate,” Claire says. “That’s amazing.”
“He took the news very well,” Linc replies. “He could have just told me to get lost, or been angry about it, and the same with your mum, you, and Marie. I’ve been very lucky.”
“Well, it’s not every day you discover you have a sibling you never knew about.” She smiles. “I always wanted a brother.”
He swallows and smiles back. I meet Gareth’s gaze, and we both smile too. Linc is right—he’s been so lucky that they’ve all reacted so well.
Our paninis arrive, and we eat and sip our piping-hot coffee while we talk. Linc tells them about his job and life in the UK, and Claire and Gareth tell him about Dunedin and working at Otago University.
I listen, not saying much, a little envious as they talk about how much they love the city and the university, and what a wonderful time they had as undergraduates together, partying and enjoying the student lifestyle. I missed out on that experience, as I spent my days in lectures or the library, and the evenings at home, watching movies with Fraser and Joel, or in my room working, if they were out on the town.
Linc stretches out an arm along the back of my chair, resting a hand between my shoulder blades, and he draws small circles with his fingers, as if reminding me he’s there as he chats to them about the online degree he took, and the excavations he’s been on.
At one point, when Claire finishes feeding Lily, I say, “I don’t suppose I could have a cuddle?”
“Of me or the baby?” she teases, then laughs and says, “of course, if you’d like to.”
We stand, and she passes Lily to me, turning the baby so her head is in the crook of my left arm. I sit, enjoying the weight of her and the way she looks up at me with her big blue eyes. “Aw, she’s gorgeous.” I look at Linc, expecting to see him roll his eyes, but his face bears a slight frown. I think I’ve surprised him by wanting to hold the baby. I don’t know his thoughts on wanting a family. Knowing Linc, I doubt he’s thought about it much at all, but maybe he doesn’t want to be tied down. Well, I don’t want to get pregnant tomorrow, but I would like a family eventually, and I’m not sure it’s something I can compromise on.
About twenty minutes later, though, he shocks me by saying, “Can I hold her?” when I finally go to hand her back to her mother.
I turn the baby into his arms, while Claire gives me an amused look, obviously as amazed as I am that he’s interested.
He looks down at Lily as she grizzles a bit. “Aw, sweetie, is it a bit warm in here? Talk to Uncle Linc.” He gets to his feet and, rocking her in what looks like an expert manner, takes her outside.
“Well, well,” Claire says, “that was a surprise.”
“Tell me about it,” I joke.
“Does he want kids?” Gareth asks.
I shrug. “No idea.” When Claire’s eyebrows rise, I explain awkwardly, “we’re not together, not in that way.”
“Could have fooled me,” she says. “He looks at you as if you’re the girl of his dreams.”
I flush. “I don’t think so. And anyway, his life is in the UK. Even if we had feelings for each other, I don’t think he’d move back here for me.”
“You don’t fancy going to the UK?” Gareth asks. “I did my OE there and I loved it. All those historical sites.”
“I’m not a great traveler,” I admit, watching Linc out the front of the café. He’s taken Lily up to a hanging basket filled with tiny purple flowers that have attracted a couple of butterflies, and he points to one of them while he talks to her, obviously telling her about them. Jesus, this guy. He makes my ovaries ache.
“Maybe you should think about it,” Claire says. “You could be swallows—six months there, six months here. It would be nice to be able to see you both again.”
I don’t reply, because Linc has come back in, and he walks over and passes Lily back to her. “Thanks for the cuddle,” he says. “Great to know I have a niece. I can be one of those annoying uncles who buys her noisy toys and teaches her how to burp to the national anthem.”
That makes them both laugh. “I wouldn’t mind,” Claire says. “Are you planning to visit New Zealand again soon?”
“Not sure,” he says cheerfully, without looking at me.
“Linc doesn’t believe in making plans,” I tease, and he glances me and just smiles.
It’s nearing one o’clock now, and Gareth says, “Well, I’m at work this afternoon, so we’d better make a move.”
“Of course.”
We all rise and head outside, and stand there for a moment, exchanging hugs and saying goodbye.
“It was so cool to meet you both,” Claire tells us. “I hope you’ll stay in touch.”
“Oh definitely,” Linc says.
We wave goodbye, and the two of them head off, pushing Lily in her pram.
Linc watches them go, then turns to me. “That was fun,” he says.
“I think she liked that you cuddled Lily,” I tell him. “You looked surprisingly comfortable.”
“I have a friend in the UK who had a baby recently,” he explains. “I’ve held his son a few times, which helps.”
We begin walking slowly along the high street, past the busy shops. “Do you miss your friends there?” I ask.
“A bit.” He slides an arm around my waist. “London’s a great city. So much culture—historical sites, art galleries, theaters, concerts… You’d love it.”
“I’m sure I would.”
He pulls me toward him and kisses the top of my head. “Is moving there something you’d ever contemplate?”
I hesitate. “I don’t know. I’d miss my family a lot. Claire suggested the idea of being swallows—six months there, six months here.”
“Not a bad idea. Not sure how it would work out for jobs, though.” He looks away, at one of the displays in a nearby shop window.
“Mmm.” My heart sinks a little. It’s a nice idea for a retired couple—escaping winter by spending something like April to September in the UK, then October to March here—but it’s not so good for a working couple.
No, if I want to be with Linc, it’s looking as if the only option is to go to the UK with him. Can I really do that? Not only would it mean leaving my family behind, the notion of moving across the world is a scary thought. I’m sure London is a great city, but I’d have no friends and no job. And while I accept it wouldn’t take long to find my way around, especially with buses and Uber and the Tube, it’s a gigantic step for a girl who mainly walks from work to her apartment and then checks the locks fourteen times.
We don’t speak about it again and spend our time shopping before returning to the ship just after 3:30 p.m. Half an hour later, the gangplank is retrieved, and the ship sets sail again, this time for an overnight journey to Milford Sound.
We head down to the theater to listen to the afternoon lecture on cave paintings, including the relatively recent discovery in a cave in Sulawesi, Indonesia, that’s between 31,500 and 43,900 years old, which makes it the oldest art ever found, and stay for the questions afterward, both of us asking a few of our own.
We decide to have dinner at the Italian restaurant, and spend our time talking about the lecture, as well as a hundred other subjects—music and art and literature, wherever the conversation takes us. Linc is such an easy person to talk to, and even when I’m just listening, I find it hard to tear my gaze from him. I’m falling for him badly, I know, and I’m only making it harder for myself if and when the time comes that I have to let him go. But I can’t help it. He’s captivated me, put me under his spell. I’m crazy about him.
It can’t be love—it’s a childish crush, an infatuation, because love is something that grows over time. But it’s not going away anytime soon, and even though I know it’s probably going to end in heartache, I give myself over to it, because I like being in love, and I’m going to make the most of it while he’s here.