Chapter Thirty-Three
Elora
The next day, Linc has booked us a helicopter flight back to Queenstown. It’s my first time in a helicopter, and I spent most of it staring out of the window with an open mouth, stunned by the beauty of the Fiordland National Park. Rivers, forests, waterfalls, mountains—this place has it all. The flight up Lake Wakatipu to Queenstown is just as beautiful in a different way. We talk about how much the landscape reminds us of The Lord of the Rings , pointing out different areas and reminiscing about scenes from the movie.
When we land in Queenstown, Linc then reveals he’s booked us a charter flight to Christchurch. It’s only when we’re in the sky, on our way to the city, that he tells me he’s hired a car, and he’s going to drive us up to Hanmer Springs.
I stare at him, shocked. “Why?”
He sips the hot coffee the flight attendant has just brought us. “I thought you’d like to show your mum the ring.”
“Well, yes, but my dad will also be there…”
“I know. It’s time to put old ghosts to rest.”
My heart skips a beat. “Do you mean you want to make peace with my dad before you leave?”
He looks down at his coffee cup and removes a mark with his thumb. “We need to talk about it, you and I,” he says eventually. “But I’m not quite ready. Is it all right if we wait just one more day?”
I swallow hard. I want to yell no and demand he tell me what’s on his mind right now. But that would be childish, and I know I need to give him space to weigh the pros and cons of the decision.
Part of me is sad that he doesn’t want to talk through it. But I have to pull on my big-girl pants and deal with it.
We don’t talk much for the rest of the flight. The magic from last night seems to have faded like mist in the morning, and Linc is preoccupied, lost in thought as he stares out of the window. I take out my phone and, although I don’t have an internet connection, pull up the notes I’ve been working on for my MA and pretend to read through them and make alterations.
But I’m not really seeing the words. All I can think about is what he said. We need to talk about it, you and I… But I’m not quite ready . Does he mean that he hasn’t made up his mind? And why will one more day make a difference?
I sigh, because there’s no way to answer the question. I’m not going to beg him to talk to me. When he’s ready, no doubt he’ll let me know his decision.
I feel a little sulky and resentful, but I don’t voice my frustrations. I leave him to his thoughts, and before long we land in Christchurch.
While he heads over to pick up the keys for the car he’s hired, I call Mum to let her know we’re coming.
To my surprise, she says, “Yes, I know.”
My eyebrows rise. “What? How?”
“Fraser and Joel are here. They’ve told us what’s been going on.”
I go completely cold. “They’ve told you… about Linc?”
“Yes, love,” she says softly.
“What did they tell you?”
“That you joined him on the ANZAS cruise.” She pauses, and when she speaks again, I’m sure I hear a smile in her voice. “That you shared a cabin.”
I look at my reflection in the nearby shop window and see my scarlet cheeks. “Oh.”
“Honey, I’m not surprised at all. In fact I think it’s kinda sweet, after all this time. You two were always crazy about each other.”
I push a stone with the toe of my shoe. “And… Dad knows?”
“Yes.”
“What… what did he say?”
“Nothing at all. He’s gone for a long walk.”
I press my fingers to my mouth and take a few seconds to compose myself. Then I clear my throat and lower my hand. “We’ll be there mid-afternoon. Linc wants to talk to you both. I think he’s hoping to make his peace with you, and with Dad especially, before he goes.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. When does he leave?”
“Monday.”
“He’s definitely going?” Her tone is gentle.
I swallow hard. “I think so. We’re going to talk about it after he’s spoken to you both.”
“Okay. I won’t press you, darling, but I hope you’ll tell me all about it while you’re here.”
“I will, Mum. I’m really looking forward to seeing you.” She hasn’t mentioned the ring, so I suspect that neither Fraser nor Joel have told her about it, and I decide to keep it a surprise for now.
“See you soon,” I say. “Love you.”
“Love you too, my darling.”
I end the call, feeling a little emotional, like I always do since I’ve spoken to her since her illness.
I go over to the rental car desk, where the receptionist is just giving Linc the keys, and we head out.
“Everything all right?” he asks.
“Yeah. Fraser and Joel are there for some reason, and they’ve been kind enough to tell Mum and Dad what’s been going on.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah. Apparently Dad’s gone for a long walk.”
He glances at me. “That’s how he processes stuff though, right? Maybe it’s a good thing. At least he didn’t explode.”
“No, I’m sure we would have heard it, like the shockwave after Krakatoa erupted.”
He laughs and stops to unlock the car. To my shock, it’s an Aston Martin V8 Vantage Roadster—a flash sports car with a leather interior and a retractable roof.
“Oh my God, Linc!” My jaw drops as he places our cases in the boot. “Only you could hire an Aston Martin.”
“I wanted to play James Bond.” He opens the passenger door, and I slide into the seat. Oh wow, it’s a magnificent beast, and somehow perfectly suited to the gentleman of fortune who walks around to the driver’s side and gets in.
He laughs with pure, unadulterated joy as he starts the engine, then sets the roof to slide back. “You don’t mind?” he asks.
“Of course not!” My hair will look like Bridget Jones’s when we arrive, no doubt—sticking out all over the place—but it’ll be worth it.
He Bluetooths his phone, loads up a playlist, then starts playing Sweet Home Alabama —the perfect driving song. I grin and begin singing, and he joins in as he heads the car out of the airport and toward the state highway heading north.
It’s just under two hours to Hanmer Springs, and it’s a fine, clear day, perfect for driving. The traffic is slowish in the city, but once we’re on State Highway One it eases up, and Linc can put his foot down a little. The speed limit is only eighty kilometers in most places, so we’re hardly flying along, but the breeze whips across us, tugging at my hair, and Linc’s face is an absolute picture, full of joy. He holds my hand most of the time as we drive, and despite my worries about the upcoming conversation about our future, I thoroughly enjoy myself, with the Canterbury Plains backed by the Southern Alps on our left, and the views of the Pacific Ocean appearing from time to time on our right.
Once we’re over the Waipara River, Linc takes State Highway Seven, and we begin the final part of the drive through the fields and then the Tekoa Range, which is on the fringe of the Southern Alps.
“Do you remember the Māori name of Hanmer Springs?” I ask him as we drive across the fields toward the hot springs.
“ Te Whakatakanga o te Ngārahu o te ahi a Tamatea ,” he says, the Māori words rolling easily off his tongue, surprising me before I remember that the two of us took about three days trying to memorize it when we were kids. “I can’t remember what it means, though,” he admits.
“Where the ashes of Tamatea’s fire lay,” I reply. “Tamatea was the captain of the canoe Tākitimu.”
“Yeah, right, I remember. It’s the perfect place to set a school like Greenfield. So much to do there—all the mountain bike trails, the ski fields, the forests, white water rafting, as well as the hot pools.”
“Do you have fond memories of it, in general?”
“I do,” he says, although he doesn’t elaborate, and he grows quiet again as he turns onto the drive toward the school.
I deliberately haven’t given much thought to our visit on the way here after speaking to Mum, but now the prospect of Linc meeting my father again after all this time has my stomach packed full of butterflies. I’m sure he’s feeling the same, although he doesn’t look nervous. Actually, he looks pumped. His eyes are bright, and there’s a sudden energy around him that’s almost shooting out of his fingers and the tips of his hair. He’s rising to the challenge, excited, I think, to face this dragon from his youth now he has the maturity to deal with it.
Oh God.
He drives through the open gates, then along the long, winding road toward the school. I wonder whether he’s thinking about the last time he traveled this road, in the opposite direction, when Dad took him away. I want to ask, but suddenly I’m too shy and too nervous to broach the subject.
As we reach the fork in the road, he takes the right option, and we curve away from the school with its rugby field and football pitch, its tennis courts and cricket pitches, toward the office buildings. We pass those and head down the hill, go around a small copse of trees, and then the house appears ahead of us, overlooking Chatterton River.
Linc takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly, his first indication that he’s nervous. He drives up to the house and slides the Aston next to Dad’s Range Rover. Neither Joel’s car nor Fraser’s are here but there is a rather nice Merc, so I’m guessing they flew to Christchurch together and this is a rental.
I’m puzzled as to why they’re here. I don’t know whether it’s a good or bad thing that they’re going to be around when Linc meets Dad. Joel might well be supportive of Linc and try to defend him. Fraser, being older, has tended to be less forgiving, although it was nice to see him give Linc a big hug when he saw him last week.
Linc turns off the engine. Then he glances at me. “Ready?”
I swallow hard. “Do you… um… want to talk about what we’re going to say…?”
“Nah. Best to wing it.”
I roll my eyes as he opens the door and gets out. Of course. God forbid that the pirate should make any kind of plan.
It’s a long, sprawling, one-storey home, with a large living room in the center, and another in the west wing of the house which also doubles as a kind of library and study, which is where Linc and I used to hang out a lot. There are eight bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a huge country-style kitchen. There are always a minimum of three dogs and several cats in the house, and at the moment there’s also a parrot called—somewhat ironically considering Linc’s presence—Jack Sparrow. I love it here, but at the moment I’m too nervous to feel excited about coming home.
We walk up the path and, as we get close to the front door, it opens.
“Hello,” Mum says. She’s in her mid-fifties, and I’m thrilled that her beautiful blonde hair is growing back, and she can now style it, even though it’s still quite short. She’s lost a lot of weight, but she’s regained some of her energy, and her eyes have a sparkle in them now as she surveys the two of us. “Hey, baby girl,” she says as I walk up to her.
“Hi, Mum.” I give her a big hug, then step back as Linc walks slowly up the steps.
“Linc,” she says, coming out onto the porch and holding out her hands. “Oh my God, look at you all grown up.”
“Hey, Mrs. Bell,” he says, taking both her hands in his.
“Oh come on,” she scoffs, “you haven’t forgotten my name, surely?”
“Clementine,” he says, and grins, because he’s obviously remembered that she dislikes her full name. “Clemmie,” he adds then, and she laughs and pulls him toward her for a big hug.
I watch them, overcome with emotion. But Mum was never going to be the problem. She always had a soft spot for Linc—it was one reason why he was at the house so often. She was always making his favorite cakes and biscuits, getting him books out of the library, including him on family trips, and generally treating him no different from her own sons, so it’s no wonder that she’s been more of a mother to him than Nancy.
When she steps back, she takes another look at him, shaking her head. “You’ve grown into a fine man, Linc.”
He gives a short, self-conscious, rather cute laugh. “Thank you.” Then he reaches out a hand and touches her shoulder. “Lora told me you’ve been unwell. I’m so sorry to hear that, and I’m really pleased you’re on the mend.”
“Thank you. It’s been tough, but at least I’ve had my family, which is a lot more than some people have.” Mum gestures inside with her head. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
Linc glances over his shoulder at me, then follows her inside.
I bring up the rear, closing the door behind me, toe off my shoes, and leave them in the lobby. Linc does the same—old habits die hard—and then we go after Mum.
The house is mostly open plan, the living room in front of us, the kitchen on the far side, with lots of sliding glass doors that are all open on this glorious summer day. Dad, Joel, and Fraser are in the kitchen, and the house is full of the smell of baking bread and something sweeter—chocolate brownies, I realize. Linc’s favorites. A dog—one of the two chocolate Labs that Dad owns, one of which is called Pinky, the other Perky Nana after two Kiwi chocolate bars; I’m not sure which one this is—runs up, and Linc drops to his haunches to fuss it. The dog is immediately under his charm and rolls over onto his back with his legs in the air. Linc always had that effect on dogs, and the sight of him scratching the Lab’s tummy, drenched in the sunlight that streams across the wooden floor like melted butter, while Dad and my brothers chat in the kitchen, gives me such a strong sense of déjà vu that it makes me want to cry.
One of the other dogs barks, and the three guys turn and see us.
“Linc!” Joel walks across the kitchen, comes over to him, takes his hand, and does a brotherly shoulder bump that just melts me. “Good to see you,” he says. “Long journey?”
“Not too bad, thanks.” Linc’s reply is casual, but now I can see the tension in his shoulders, his stiff spine. He is nervous, and he walks toward the kitchen in his bare feet, stopping to fuss the other two dogs, before straightening as Fraser approaches.
“Good to see you again,” Fraser says, shaking his hand in a slightly more formal way, possibly because Dad’s watching.
Linc nods, but his gaze strays past Fraser to my father. Fraser drops his hand and moves back, and Linc and Dad study each other across opposite sides of the large kitchen.
Dad is now in his late fifties, and his hair is a gorgeous mixture of gray and white, the colors intertwining like two different flavors of soft-serve ice cream. His mustache is grayer, his beard whiter. He’s an attractive man, his quiet confidence and straight moral compass making him attractive to women, although he’s absolutely devoted to Mum.
He and Linc walk forward until they’re about six feet apart and stop. The rest of us hold our breath while we watch the showdown. Linc slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
They’re silent for about ten seconds, both sizing each other up. Then, finally, Dad speaks.
“I’m sorry to hear about your father,” he says.
“Don’t be,” Linc replies. “I’m sure he’s nice and toasty where he is right now.”
Dad doesn’t normally like talk like that, but to my surprise I see his lips twitch.
Joel glances at me. I think he can sense the electricity sparking off Linc. I lift my eyebrows and give a slight shrug, then look back at the two guys.
“Elora told me that it turns out Don wasn’t your birth father,” Dad says.
Linc nods. “My real dad’s name is Edmund Mansfield. Lora and I met him and his wife and one of his daughters a few days ago, and we caught up with his other daughter in Dunedin.”
“Lora,” Dad says, amused, glancing at me. “You know you’re the only one she lets shorten her name.”
Linc also glances at me, and my face heats. He just smiles and looks back at my father.
“It seems I can’t keep the two of you apart even when I’ve sent you out of the country,” Dad says.
Linc looks at his feet for a moment. Then, to my surprise, he says, “Do you think we could go for a walk?”
Dad’s eyebrows rise. “Oh. Er… sure.”
The two of them head to the front door, Dad pausing for a moment to give me a hug and a kiss on the forehead before he walks on. Linc doesn’t look at me as he passes, and I hear them putting on their shoes, and then the front door opens and closes.
I look back at Mum and my brothers. “Huh,” I say.
“I think they were a bit self-conscious with us listening,” Mum says. “Come on. You can help me cut up some of this bread and butter it. We’ll have it with our dinner tonight. You’re staying overnight, I hope?”
I realize we haven’t even discussed it. “I don’t know… I suppose it depends how their conversation goes.” I have no idea what Linc wants to talk to him about, or how my father will react. He didn’t go ballistic when he saw him, which I hope is a good sign. But that doesn’t mean they’re suddenly going to become best friends.
If it doesn’t go well, I know Linc won’t want to stay. He’ll want to go back to Wellington, and then we’ll only have tomorrow, Sunday, and he’ll be getting ready to leave. Oh God, there’s so much I want to say to him, and I don’t know where to start. I don’t want to make a fool of myself. But equally he told me he’s in love with me. Did he mean it? And will it affect his decision? I’m all mixed up, and feelings rise up inside me as I realize tomorrow could be our last day together.
“You okay?” Fraser asks, pushing off the counter and coming over to me.
I nod, but I’m unable to stop the emotion overwhelming me, and I press my fingers to my mouth.
“Ah,” he says, “come here,” and he pulls me into his arms.
I bury my face in his T-shirt. “I’ve been such an idiot,” I whisper.
“No you haven’t.” He hugs me. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
“You don’t know that,” I whisper.
“I’ve got a pretty good feeling about it all,” he says, and kisses the top of my head.
But I’m not so sure, and while I wait for the two of them to come back, my stomach is like a washing machine, the emotions tumbling around until I’m just one big messy bundle.