Chapter Thirty
Linc
Elora lies unmoving beneath me. She’s breathing, though, so I think she’s still alive. Her hair is spread out across the pillow, all tangled and mussed, like cotton candy. Her neck bears light red marks where I’ve sucked—hopefully they won’t be permanent. My skin is stuck to hers, and I’m still inside her. All I can smell, taste, hear, and feel is her—at this moment, she’s my whole world.
Unfortunately, I have to move, but although I apologize, she doesn’t say anything and doesn’t protest as I withdraw and dispose of the condom, then rise up off the bed.
I go out to the living room and over to the fridge, extract a bottle of water, and drink a few large mouthfuls. Then I go back into the bedroom, climb back on the bed, prop up the remaining pillows, and lean back on them.
“Here,” I say to her, “you should rehydrate.”
She takes the bottle in one hand but doesn’t move. “I’m so hot,” she whispers.
I lean over and flick on the switch for the aircon. While I wait for it to start blowing cool air over us, I pick up a magazine and fan her with it.
She looks up, meeting my eyes, lifts up onto her elbows, and has a few mouthfuls of water. Then she flops back onto her front. “I feel as if I’ve been run over by forty oxen,” she says.
That makes me laugh as I fan her. “Oxen?”
“They’re castrated male cattle.”
“I know what they are. I just thought it was an unusual animal to pick.”
“Feel free to substitute any other bovines. Bison. Water buffalo.”
“Yak?”
“Yaks will do.”
I chuckle and lean forward to kiss her back. She murmurs approval, so I toss the magazine aside, slide down the pillows, and start to kiss all over her glowing skin.
“Mmm…” She purrs like a kitten as I move closer to her and kiss her neck.
“Come here.” I pull her against me, ignoring her protests that she can’t move, lift the covers over us, and wrap my arms around her.
Then I kiss her lips, long and lingering, until she melts against me with a heartfelt sigh.
“Was that okay?” I ask when we eventually come up for air. “I didn’t hurt you?”
“Good.” I kiss her lips.
She looks up at me, her big blue eyes dark in the moonlight. “I didn’t know it could feel like that.”
“Like what?”
“So… dark and passionate.”
I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “The cocktails probably helped a little.”
“Maybe.”
“I didn’t frighten you?”
She shakes her head again. Then she sucks her bottom lip, thinking about it. “I liked the position. From behind, I mean. I’ve seen it on TV sometimes and it doesn’t look very romantic, but it’s… feral. It made my heart race.”
“I’m glad.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
I laugh. “Couldn’t you tell?”
“You could have been faking it.”
“I’m not that good an actor.”
“Have you ever faked it?”
“No.”
She thinks about that while she traces a finger over one of my tattoos. She looks slightly sulky.
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
She doesn’t look up. “Nothing.”
“There obviously is. Come on, you can tell me anything.”
“Not this.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Out with it, Bell.”
She huffs a sigh. “I’m jealous, and I don’t want to be.”
“Jealous of whom?”
“The other women you’ve been with.”
I’m genuinely puzzled, because they all feel so far away it’s like they’re another person’s memories. “Why?”
“Because it feels as if they’ve touched my property, and I know that’s not fair, and I don’t want you to tell me off.”
I don’t say anything, and eventually she lifts her gaze to mine.
“You’re smiling,” she observes.
“I know.”
“You’re not going to tell me off?”
“Maybe. I can include a spank or two if you want me to.”
“Linc!”
“What?”
“Oh my God.”
I lift her so she’s lying on top of me, stretched out. “I’m yours,” I tell her honestly. “I always have been, and I always will be.”
Her brows draw together. She looks into my eyes as if she’s running a polygraph examination in my brain and examining the results, looking for the blips in the reading that will indicate a lie. She won’t find any. I’m telling the truth. No matter what happens between us in the future, my heart has belonged to this girl ever since she shared her first Twix with me, all those years ago.
I slide my hand into her hair and pull her head down, and we exchange a long, lingering kiss.
When I finally let her go, I say, “You look tired. You want to go to sleep now?”
“Mmm.” She rests her head on my shoulder. “Can I sleep like this?”
“If you like.”
She kisses my neck. “You smell nice.”
I smile. She’s warm and soft on top of me, and she sighs as I draw my fingers down her back, from her shoulder blades down either side of her spine to the plump muscles of her ass, then up either side of her waist and ribs to the top, where I start all over again.
I continue to do that long after she’s fallen asleep, just wanting to touch her and commit her to memory.
If I let her go, one day another man will do this to her. Another guy will hold her, kiss her, take her to bed, slide inside her, and make her come. And he’ll hold her after they’ve been intimate, and whisper in the dark how much he loves her.
I look out at the stars, and it’s a long time before I fall asleep.
*
The next day is a busy day onboard. At eleven I have my main presentation, and Elora takes a seat in the theater to watch as I lecture on the excavation of early Anglo-Saxon sites in the UK, as some of the techniques employed there are useful for early Māori sites here in New Zealand, which primarily involve natural building materials.
After the lecture and the questions that follow, she comes up and gives me a hug and whispers, “That was so hot, watching you.”
I chuckle and nuzzle her ear, and I’m about to suggest we go back to our cabin when Alethea comes up and says in a teasing tone, “Put her down, Linc. No time for that. The board wants to talk to you about establishing a regular communication, and delivering some online lectures via Zoom, if you’re up for it.”
Surprised, I follow her into the next room, Elora in tow, and spend an enjoyable hour listening to them trying to convince me to give regular lectures on my time at iDigBritain via Zoom. I’m more than amenable to the idea and promise to contact Alethea when I return to the UK to set up a calendar.
I don’t miss that Elora goes quiet when I mention going back to England, but she doesn’t talk about it afterward, and we don’t revisit the subject.
We punctuate lectures and panel discussions with frequent trips outside to look at the magnificent scenery as the ship sails up the coast of the Fiordland National Park. It’s the wettest climate in New Zealand here, and the rain falls steadily, interspersed with brief sunny periods that bring rainbows out over the many waterfalls.
We help ourselves to a magnificent buffet lunch and take our plates outside so we can eat while we sail serenely past the stunning view. A fiord is a geological word meaning an ice-carved landscape that’s been inundated by water—lakes, streams, waterfalls, and rivers—all surrounded by lush rainforest and the backdrop of the cloud-topped mountains.
We take hundreds of photos and video footage of the scenery and of the dolphins, penguins, and seals we spot along the way.
Around four p.m., the ship enters Milford Sound, called Piopiotahi in Māori—a sixteen-kilometer or ten-mile inlet leading up to the small settlement of the same name. This was the place Elora and I read about when we were kids, lying in the makeshift tent while we leafed through the atlas. We lean on the railings, looking up at towering Mitre Peak, at Stirling and Bowen waterfalls that tumble down its sides, and down at the dark, inky, mysterious waters as the ship carves through them. To our delight, we’re treated to the sight of a Hector’s Dolphin—the smallest dolphin in the world, and for a while a group of bottlenose dolphins swims by the ship, one leaping out to take a look at us.
“It gives me the shivers to think about Atticus Bell sailing here back in the 1860s,” Elora says, “looking for a piece of greenstone for the girl he loved.”
“Do you know her name?”
“Hinerangi. It means sky-girl or heavenly-girl.”
“That’s beautiful.”
“I think so.”
“You’re my Hinerangi,” I tell her, thinking how lovely she looks with the bright blue sky behind her, a rainbow arching over her head, conjured by the light passing through the waterfall.
She looks up at me with her big blue eyes and swallows. “That’s a nice thing to say.”
“Heavenly girl.” I take a strand of her hair and slide my fingers down it. Then I lean forward and murmur in her ear, “well, not last night, obviously.”
She pushes me. “Don’t embarrass me.”
“I like embarrassing you. You go all pink and flustered.” I kiss her, and she gets exasperated, then gives in and loops her arms around my neck.
When I finally release her lips, I move behind her and slide my arms around her waist, and we watch the scenery passing by together.
“I wonder whether Maureen will have the ring,” she whispers.
“Even if she hasn’t, I’m so glad you came with me.”
“Me too. It’s been a lot of fun.”
I kiss the top of her head. We both know the adventure is close to ending. Soon we’ll have to return to the real world, and then it’ll be time to make decisions and sort out what we’re going to do.
But not yet. It’s not quite time for Future Linc to have to step up.
We stay leaning on the railings while the ship sails all the way up the Sound, and then finally, around seven p.m., we make our way to our cabin to pack ready for disembarking. Most of the passengers are staying for the trip across the Tasman to Australia, and when the ship docks and we head to the exit, we find Alethea and many of the others waiting to say goodbye, which we both find quite touching.
Waving to them all, we make our way down the gangplank, where we find a Māori guy waiting with a board bearing our names.
“Oh,” Elora says when she sees him. “Who’s this?”
I smile as we walk up and hold out my hand. “I’m Linc Green and this is Elora.”
“Welcome to Milford Sound,” he says. “I’m Etana Williams. I’m here to take you to the Riverside.”
“The Riverside?” Elora queries.
“It’s a series of chalets overlooking the fiord,” I reply. “We’re staying there tonight. Nice to meet you, Etana. Hey, before we head over there, I was wondering whether we could make a pitstop?”
“Of course.”
I give him the address of Maureen Lyttle, hoping it’s not like Brigadoon and the place only appears once every hundred years.
But he says, “Yep, I know where that is,” and then he takes our cases over to a Range Rover and puts them in the back, and the two of us climb into the passenger seats.
Elora’s eyes are wide, and she’s breathing fast as we set off. I lift her hand and kiss her fingertips, understanding her nerves. I know how much the ring would mean to her and her family, especially her mother, of course.
“Do you live here?” Elora asks Etana.
He nods. “I work at Riverside—I’m the porter and the chauffeur, and I do lots of other odd jobs.”
“So you know the town pretty well?”
“Yeah, I’d say so.”
She chews her bottom lip. “Do you know Maureen Lyttle?”
“Yeah, of course. She works for Milford Sound Tourism. Is that who you’re going to see?”
“We were hoping to.”
He indicates and turns off the main road, following the Cleddau River. “I’m sure she’ll be there. If not, she won’t have gone far.”
He drives slowly down a long, winding road peppered with small houses. It can’t really be called a town; it’s more of a village, as I haven’t seen any shops or supermarkets, and I believe there’s only one small café in the information center. I know that everyone who lives here works for either the local cruise operators, the Riverside, Milford Sound Tourism, or one of the fishing boats, and they live in houses that their employers supply.
After living in the UK, with a population of nearly sixty-seven million, and being so near to the hustle and bustle of the rest of Europe, traveling the eleven thousand miles or eighteen thousand kilometers to New Zealand with its population of just over five million already feels as if I’ve come to the ends of the Earth. But Milford Sound with its population of less than two hundred feels as if we really have descended to the bottom of the world.
Could I live somewhere like this, so far removed from a large city? The village now has mobile phone coverage and internet access, but even so, it feels distinctly off the grid. Great for a night or two, but I’m not sure I’d like to live here permanently.
Etana slows, then turns onto a smaller drive, finally coming to a stop in front of one of the small cottages. “Here you go,” he says, turns off the engine, and pulls out his phone. “Take as long as you need.”
I smile at Elora. “Come on.”
We get out of the car and walk toward the house. As we approach, the door opens to reveal a woman who’s probably in her sixties with gray hair. Silently, I apologize to her for saying she was probably over seventy.
She looks at us both, smiles, and says, “You must be Linc and Elora.”
Elora stops dead and stares at her. “Sorry, what?”
“Come in,” Maureen says, and she steps back, indicating for us to pass her.
I give Elora a mischievous smile, take her hand, and lead her inside.
We go into the small cottage and walk through to the living room. It’s basic but cozy: a sofa and chairs covered with colorful throws, a small dining table and chairs by the window, and shelves filled with knitted animals, everything from dogs and cats to zebras and camels. “My hobby,” she says when she sees us looking at them. “I send most of them to the children’s ward in Queenstown Hospital.”
“They’re lovely,” I say, because Elora doesn’t seem capable of speech.
“Thank you. Can I get you a drink?”
“No, we won’t keep you long,” I reply. “Ms. Lyttle, thank you so much for agreeing to meet us today.”
“Oh, Maureen, please. And I couldn’t resist after your very eloquent email.”
Elora switches her stare to me. “You emailed her?”
I pull an eek face. “Sorry.”
“But…” She looks back at Maureen. “You knew we were coming?”
“Yes, Linc told me you’d be arriving on the cruise ship today. He said you were interested in the Bell Ring.” She retrieves a small jewelry box from one of the shelves. She pops it open, then holds it out to us.
In the middle, sitting on black velvet, is a ring consisting of a large piece of greenstone set into a gold band.
Elora’s jaw drops. She looks at Maureen, who smiles, then at me, and finally back at the box. She takes it from Maureen, removes the ring from the velvet, and turns it over. I peer with her at the inscription beneath. The initials A & H are clearly visible, and, as she turns the ring, so are two other words— āke āke . Forever.
She presses her fingers to her mouth, and her eyes fill with tears.
“Aw,” Maureen says. “Linc said you were descended from Atticus and Hinerangi.”
“Her father is also called Atticus Bell,” I say. I put an arm around Elora, and she turns and buries her face in my shoulder, struggling to control her emotion. “Like I said in the email,” I continue, “Elora was hoping to find the Bell Ring for an exhibition at the National Museum. But that’s not the only reason she’s been trying to track it down. Her mum’s been very unwell—she’s recovering from breast cancer. It would mean the world to her to have this heirloom back in the family. So I was wondering if I could buy it off you, please?”
I’ve actually already discussed this with Maureen, and her eyes twinkle. “I told you that you could have it, Linc.”
Elora gasps and straightens, wiping beneath her eyes. “Oh my God.”
“I don’t expect you to give it to us,” I say softly. “I’m very happy to pay you for it. You paid just under two thousand five hundred dollars, right? And that was nine years ago, which would be about three thousand three hundred now with inflation.” I reach into my back pocket and pull out an envelope. “There are five thousand dollars in here.” I hold it out to her. “Please take it. If you don’t want it, you can donate it to the children’s ward at the hospital.”
She smiles then and takes the envelope from me. “I will definitely do that.”
“Linc!” Tears are pouring down Elora’s face. “You can’t do that for me.”
“I just did.” I look down at the ring. “It’s yours, sweetheart. I’m sorry for the ruse, but I didn’t want you to come all this way and not find it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d found Maureen?” She glances at the older woman with a puzzled frown, then back at me.
“I thought you might just arrange a sale over email,” I admit. “And I wanted you to come on the cruise with me.”
Elora blinks. I know that when you boil it down, I’ve lied to her, and I’m not proud of that.
To my relief, her lips curve up. “You really think I wouldn’t have come on the cruise with you if it wasn’t for the ring?”
I open my mouth to reply, but I’m so surprised that no words come out.
“Silly boy,” she says, and turns back to a smiling Maureen. “Thank you so much for agreeing to part with it. You’ve absolutely made not just my day, but my whole year.”
“I’m glad to be able to help,” Maureen says. “And I hope it brings great joy to your mother.”
“Oh, it definitely will,” Elora replies softly, looking at the box in her hand. “She’ll be thrilled, and so will my father.”
We follow her back to the front door. I hold out my hand to Maureen, and she shakes it, then does the same with Elora. “It was lovely to meet you,” she says.
“You too,” I say, and then we head outside. We wave goodbye, and she closes the door behind us.
It’s raining lightly, but we stand there for a moment, while Elora cracks open the jewelry box and looks at the ring again. She studies it quietly for a moment. Then she looks up at me. “You’re a very naughty boy.”
“I know.”
“You’re such a pirate.”
I just chuckle.
“I’ll pay you the money,” she says.
“That won’t be necessary. It was a gift.”
She looks back at it. “Did you get it for me? Or because you think it’ll get you back in Dad’s good books?”
“I know that’ll never happen,” I say honestly. “I admit I wanted to do something nice for your mum, after all she’s been through. But like my wings, I got it mainly for you, Lora.”
I know that Maureen is probably watching us from behind the curtains, and I’m also conscious that Etana is in the car. But, unable to wait, I cup Elora’s face and lower my lips to hers, and give her a long kiss, while the rain falls lightly on our hair, and the rainbows from the waterfalls arc over our heads.