Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
With her eyes still on Oliver, Lucy got to her feet, compelled by that one glance to go to him. Then Jen coughed and Lucy looked around to find everyone was staring at her as if she’d gone mad.
‘More wine anyone?’ she asked, despite the fact she hadn’t touched her own glass.
‘Yes please, dear,’ said Kate, obviously taking pity on Lucy because she had a full cup of tea sitting in front of her.
Lucy escaped to the kitchen, found a clean glass for her mother, and let her cool palm press to her burning cheek. Brilliant, Lucy. Absolutely subtle.
As she poured Kate a glass of wine, she forced herself to think in facts, not feelings.
Oliver had softened when Kate spoke about his grandmother.
But she refused to jump to conclusions. He was clearly touched by what Kate had to say about his grandmother, and she was pretty sure that Oliver wasn’t often touched about anything at all.
He was too guarded. Was that a sign he was letting his guard down?
She didn’t know. But she was determined to find out.
When she stepped back outside, she saw Oliver and Sam down by the garden wall that edged the dunes.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, silhouettes against the darkened beach, talking quietly.
Lucy hesitated. She’d brought him here to connect with the family.
Sam counted as family now he and Jen were engaged.
Instead of going to them, she brought the glass to Kate and kissed her cheek as a wave of affection and gratitude swept over her.
Kate turned to her with a smile. ‘And what was that for?’
‘For being the loveliest mother who ever lived,’ said Lucy going back to her seat.
Dan rolled his eyes.
‘What?’ she said, glaring at him.
‘You!’ he said. ‘I didn’t have you pegged for being so soppy.’
‘I’m not soppy. No one can ever accuse me of being soppy. I’m merely being truthful.’
Kate leaned in to him, and tapped him lightly on the knee. ‘Daniel, you know you think that, too,’ she said with a crooked smile.
He sighed and shook his head, because of course their mother was correct.
Lucy looked around and did a double-take when her eyes landed on Augi. She looked so sad. Lucy had almost forgotten she was there. She was so quiet. And, of course, like Oliver, she had no family in New Zealand.
‘You must think we’re a bit over the top,’ said Lucy, leaning in to talk quietly to Augi, so only she could hear.
Augi’s mouth curved into a small smile. ‘Not at all. I was thinking how…lucky you are. To have each other.’
‘We’re not always this well-behaved,’ Lucy said. ‘We’re improving with age.’
Augi’s smile faded. ‘Sometimes families don’t improve,’ she said softly. ‘Sometimes they drift. And they don’t come back.’
Something in her face — wary, raw — made Lucy’s breath catch.
‘Is that what happened with yours?’ she asked, before she could stop herself.
Pain flashed across Augi’s eyes, so quick and sharp Lucy almost flinched.
‘I’m sorry,’ Lucy said immediately. ‘That was prying. I didn’t mean—’
Dan’s voice cut in, gentler than Lucy expected. ‘Augustini. I apologise for my sister. She talks first and thinks second.’
Augi looked up at him, startled. The pain eased — didn’t vanish, but retreated — as if Dan had shifted the air in the space between them.
‘You used my full name,’ she said, and there was something vulnerable in the words.
Dan rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Do you mind? I can call you Augi — ’
‘No,’ she said quickly. Then, softer, ‘I like hearing it. I haven’t heard it spoken like that in a long time.’
‘It’s too beautiful not to be used,’ Dan said, and then seemed horrified that the sentence had come out of his mouth.
Augi’s smile flickered again, real this time. ‘It sounds even better when you pronounce it the Greek way, like you did.’
Lucy stared at her brother. ‘Do you know Greek?’
‘God, no. It’s too hard. I tried it once after a holiday there, but gave up pretty quickly.’
‘Then how did you know how to pronounce Augi’s name?’
Dan looked mutinous. ‘YouTube,’ he muttered.
Lucy bit down on a grin. It was clear from Dan’s expression that he’d hoped Augi hadn’t heard their exchange.
But Augi was leaning forward and her surprised expression plainly told Lucy she’d heard every word.
She wasn’t the only one who was surprised.
If Dan spent his evenings practising saying Augi’s name, his interest wasn’t superficial.
Dan cleared his throat, retreating to safer ground. ‘Anyway. Augustini was just telling me she has news. About the house.’
Lucy raised her hand to catch her mother’s attention. ‘Mum! Did you hear that? Augi has some news for us.’
‘That’s exciting!’ said Kate, turning from Jen who was showing her something on her phone. No doubt ideas for the interior of the house Sam was building further along the coast. ‘What have you found out?’
Augi glanced briefly at Oliver and Sam, displaying her usual reticence and caution, and was apparently reassured they were out of earshot.
‘I have a name,’ Augi said.
Lucy leaned forward. ‘Augi, don’t keep us in suspense.’
‘I believe the man in your photograph is John Kowalski.’
‘John Kowalski.’ Lucy repeated. ‘Wow. I guess he’s no longer Johnnie the Mysterious Marine.’
Jen picked up the photo from the table, where it had obviously been the subject of earlier discussion.
Her son, Liam had found it in a box of photos, tucked under the eaves in the attic some months earlier.
‘The name makes it all the more real. John was a real person, with a family, parents who cared for him. And he was a man who was in love with someone he was looking at.’
‘Ngaire,’ Lucy said, taking the photo. ‘Who called him Johnnie.’ She turned it towards Kate. ‘This man was in love with your grandmother.’
Kate frowned, practical even now. ‘It’s a link to Ngaire, yes. But I still don’t see how it connects to the cottage.’
‘I’m still waiting to hear back from the Michigan lawyers. I passed on the name and address Oliver gave us from the hotel files, so I’m hopeful they may come back to me with something more concrete now.’
‘I just can’t figure out,’ said Kate, ‘why a brief wartime romance led to an anonymous trust. We’re getting some of the pieces but they’re not forming any kind of coherent puzzle.
I mean why would a boyfriend of my great-grandmother set up a trust to enable her to live in her old family home? He couldn’t have been here long.’
‘I found that out, too,’ said Augi. ‘He was here about seven months in 1941,’ she said. ‘There’s no record of him returning afterwards.’
Kate nodded slowly. ‘Ngaire and the family were living here in 1941. But by 1945 — when she married Tamati — the cottage wasn’t ours.
And then later, after Hope was born, they moved back.
’ Her brow furrowed. ‘Something must have happened to firstly make us lose the house, and secondly to regain it again.’ She grunted. ‘Sort of.’
‘Financial mismanagement?’ Jen suggested.
‘Probably,’ Kate said. ‘But it still doesn’t explain why John Kowalski would buy the cottage and set up a trust to give Ngaire a home. It doesn’t make sense.’
‘We need more information,’ Lucy said.
‘I’m looking,’ Augi replied. ‘But the local archives are thinner than I expected. I could put out a request in the community —’
‘No,’ Kate said firmly. ‘Not yet. Not until we have to.’
‘I might be able to help.’
Lucy turned to find Oliver standing behind them, just outside the light of the lanterns, as if he wasn’t sure he was welcome in the circle.
‘There were other things I found at the hotel which I wasn’t sure would be relevant,’ he said. ‘But now I’m thinking they might be.’
‘What things?’ Lucy asked.
‘Some paperwork which was unfortunately undated but, from the context, was definitely after his initial posting in 1941, shows John Kowalski made at least one other visit to MacLeod’s Cove because he settled some outstanding accounts with the hotel then.
Accounts which incidentally weren’t his, but members of his platoon. ’
Kate’s hand flew to her cheek. ‘Could it have been after the war?’
‘I couldn’t find his name on any of the ship’s manifests after the war,’ said Augi.
‘The paperwork wasn’t dated, I’m afraid. But I’m guessing from the context, it was while the war was still going on.’
‘When was Hope born, Mum?’ asked Lucy quietly.
‘December 1946.’
‘Ah, well,’ continued Lucy, ‘at least there won’t be any surprises about parentage.’
Kate released a breath that was half relief, half indignation. ‘Thank goodness. I don’t want surprises.’
Lucy stared at Oliver. ‘So he came back,’ she said quietly. ‘And didn’t want anyone to know.’
Oliver nodded once. ‘That’s what it looks like.’
Then he glanced towards the front of the house, as if reminded of time. ‘I should go. My taxi will be here any minute.’
Lucy’s stomach dropped. ‘You’re leaving now?’
‘Yes,’ he said, and his gaze slid away from hers. ‘Thank you, Kate. All of you. For the hospitality.’
Kate stood. ‘What’s next for you, Oliver?’
He gave a polite shrug. ‘Work. As usual.’
‘Right. Well, I hope you’ll pop in again to see us.’
‘That’s not likely,’ he said, refusing to look around and meet Lucy’s gaze. ‘I’ve a flight booked for Australia tomorrow.’
‘Maybe when you’re back here then,’ suggested Kate, beginning to look doubtful.
‘I have no plans to return,’ said Oliver.
‘Oh.’ Lucy felt her head throbbing and was aware of everyone looking at her.
‘So, all the best, everyone and, if you’re ever in Sydney, look me up. I know some great hotels,’ he added. ‘They don’t have as much character as the Old Colonial, but at least they have all mod cons.’
There was some uncomfortable laughter. With the goodbyes said, Lucy and Oliver walked in silence until they reached the front gate where Oliver paused.
‘I’m sorry, Lucy.’
‘Hm,’ she managed, staring at the latch. ‘Me too.’ She looked up. ‘So that’s it?’
He nodded.
Then, before she could prepare, he stepped in and kissed her cheek — soft, restrained, devastating. Instinct made her turn, seeking his mouth, but he had already withdrawn.
‘Be happy,’ he said, and brushed his knuckles down her cheek with a tenderness that had no right to exist between them.
‘But of course you will,’ he added, voice roughening. ‘You’re here. With everything you need.’
‘Not quite everything,’ she said before thinking. Dan was right. She really should think before she spoke. ‘I won’t be happy,’ she said quickly, before he could speak or she could think and stop herself, ‘without knowing something before you leave,’ she added, as the taxi drew up outside the house.
He turned to her in query. ‘What is it you need to know?’
‘Why you changed your plans over the hotel.’ She stopped short of asking him if he’d done it for her. She still held on to a shred of pride.
‘Lucy,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I told you. My business decisions are commercially sensitive.’
‘I don’t believe you. This is nothing to do with business, is it? If it were, you’d have knocked down the hotel and proceeded with your carefully thought out plans. That’s what made sense for your business. Which begs the question, what made you change your plans?’
He held her gaze a beat too long. Then his eyes slid away. ‘Don’t do this,’ he said quietly. ‘There’s no point.’
Lucy reached out and grabbed his hand. ‘There’s every point.’
He shook his head but made no move to retrieve his hand.
‘No, there’s not. I’m leaving tomorrow.’
‘Don’t leave.’
‘I have to. I can’t stay. I… need to figure things out.’
‘What things?’
His head snapped up, agitation finally breaking through.
‘Don’t you get it? I’ve been kidding myself my whole life that developing the Wellington waterfront was an honourable thing to do.
It was for the glory of my grandparents, to make good what my father did.
’ His laugh was short and bleak. ‘And I let it go because I was going about it exactly as my father would have done. But I don’t want to be him, which begs a question to which I don’t have an answer. ’
‘What question?’
‘The question of who I am. I don’t know anymore. I’ve always been the man who wins, the man who achieves at any cost. And suddenly I’m not. And, you know what?’
Lucy couldn’t speak. She could only shake her head.
‘It scares me to death.’ His voice had dropped into a shadow of what it had been and she knew this was the truth. That, no matter what he felt, or didn’t feel for her, he was leaving because he was terrified.
His bleak face was shadowy as he turned away from her and got into the car without a backward glance.
It pulled away and Lucy stood at the gate with a single, bitter clarity in her mind:
She’d finally found the truth.
Trouble was, it wasn’t the truth she’d wanted — because it wasn’t about her.
It was about him.
Oliver didn’t look back. There was only one thing Lucy wanted to hear — only one thing he refused to tell her: that she was the reason he’d changed his plans and his life.
He couldn’t say it, because it would pull her into his mess.
She came from a world he didn’t know how to live in — one of decency and warmth, with family dinners and second chances.
His world had trained him to take, to win, to lie when truth was inconvenient.
He’d been absorbed in it for so long he no longer trusted what was real inside him.
And he would not inflict himself on Lucy MacLeod.