CHAPTER TWENTY
JACK
“ Kia ora , Mum.”
“Jackson! Finally! I was beginning to think you’d forgotten you had a family.” Her voice carries that particular mix of guilt and affection that only mothers can manage. “Charlotte says you haven’t returned her calls either.”
“Been busy, Mum. Work’s been—”
“Yes, yes, playing paramedic.” She dismisses a few years of my life with casual efficiency. “Now, about this Sophia…”
I groan internally. Here we go. “What about her?”
“When do we meet her? And her daughter? Madison, isn’t it? Emma’s already planning activities for a teenager. She’s got some daft idea about a rugby clinic.”
“Mum, they’re coming for a holiday, not boot camp.”
“Oh, don’t be dramatic. Emma just wants to share her passion. Like your father with the vineyard tours he’s planning.”
My stomach drops. “Vineyard tours?”
“Well, of course! Can’t have them staying at the estate without showing them the operation. Your father’s already selected the vintages for the tasting. The ‘15 Pinot is drinking beautifully right now.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Mum, I told you, we don’t need anything fancy—”
“Nonsense. It’s not every day my son brings home a woman. The staff are beside themselves. Mrs. Petersen is planning a proper welcome feast, and Tane’s already preparing the guest wing.”
“The guest wing?” My voice cracks slightly. “Mum, no. We don’t need the guest wing. The pool house would be—”
“The pool house? For your girlfriend and her daughter? Absolutely not. They’ll have the blue suite. Best views of the mountains and the lake.”
I can see it now—Sophia’s face when she realizes the “family property” has a guest wing. And staff. And multiple suites with mountain views.
“Mum, listen. Sophia doesn’t know about…everything.”
Silence. Then: “What do you mean she doesn’t know?”
“She thinks I’m just a paramedic.”
“You ARE just a paramedic, darling. That doesn’t mean you have to live like one.
Honestly, this martyrdom is exhausting.” I can hear her frowning through the phone.
“Jackson Charles McKenzie, please tell me you haven’t been lying to this poor woman.
You’re representing the McKenzie name, whether you like it or not. ”
“I haven’t lied. I just…haven’t mentioned certain things.”
“Certain things? Like your inheritance? The estate? The family holdings? Four generations of McKenzies have built this legacy with grit and vision, Jackson. It’s not something to hide away like it’s shameful.”
“Mum—”
“You can’t keep doing this, Jack.” Her voice drops, softens. “Not everyone is Vanessa.”
The name hits me like a physical blow, even after all these years. “This has nothing to do with her.”
“Doesn’t it?” My mother’s sigh carries across oceans. “Darling, what she did was awful, unforgivable even. But hiding who you are isn’t the answer.”
“I’m not hiding,” I argue, but we both know it’s a lie.
The memory rises unbidden—Vanessa’s voice, crystal clear through the cellar door I’d been about to open, carrying up from the tasting room.
“God, Melissa, don’t be daft. Of course I don’t love him.
But have you seen that ring? His grandmother’s, apparently.
Worth a small fortune.” Her laugh, brittle as glass.
“I’m thinking: two kids, ten years, then Bali and Honolulu, baby. ”
I’d stood there, grandmother’s ring burning a hole in my pocket where I’d just retrieved it from the safe, plans for a vineyard proposal shattered at my feet.
“Jack?” My mother’s voice pulls me back. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah.” My voice is rougher than I intend. “Look, Sophia isn’t Vanessa. She doesn’t care about money or status.”
“You didn’t think Vanessa did either, if I recall.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, darling. If it were, that woman wouldn’t have spent two years pretending to love you while planning how to cash in on our name.”
The anger I thought I’d buried flares again. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t remember how she looked at me when I confronted her? Like I was nothing but a bank account with legs.”
My mother’s voice softens. “That’s exactly my point, Jack. You ran away after that—to the other side of the world—to become ‘just Jack.’ But hiding your background from this new woman, this Sophia…it’s no better than what Vanessa did. You’re both creating false versions of yourselves.”
The parallel hadn’t occurred to me, and it lands like a punch to the gut. “That’s different.”
“Is it? Vanessa pretended to love you for your money. You’re pretending not to have money for Sophia’s love. Both are deceptions, darling.”
“I’m not pretending—” But even as I say it, I know she’s right. Sins of omission are still sins. “She’s different, Mum. She doesn’t care about status or wealth. Her ex was all about that, and it destroyed their marriage.”
“So you thought pretending to be poor was the solution? After what happened last time?”
“I’m not pretending to be poor. I live on my salary. I work my shifts. This is my life.”
“In a one-bedroom flat when you could be living properly, upholding the family name. Your great-grandfather would be turning in his grave.”
“This is exactly why I didn’t tell her!” The words come out sharper than intended. “Because everyone thinks the money is who I am. It’s not. It never was.”
Mum sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just…we worry about you, darling. Living so far away, working such dangerous jobs…especially after everything with Vanessa. That woman nearly destroyed you.”
“But she didn’t,” I say quietly. “And I learned a valuable lesson.”
“That all women who show interest in you are after your money?”
“No. That I need to be loved for who I am, not what I have.”
“Then why not be honest from the start? Find someone who knows everything and loves you anyway?”
“Because the minute people find out, they change. You’ve seen it, Mum. Even people who’ve known me for years look at me differently once they know.”
“Your father was terrified to tell me about his family’s money when we met,” she says unexpectedly. “Thought I’d run for the hills.”
“Did you?”
“Nearly. Not because of the money, but because he’d hidden it. Made me wonder what else he might hide.” She pauses. “But then I realized he was just scared. Scared I’d see the money instead of him.”
“That’s exactly it.”
“So I told him, ‘Michael McKenzie, I don’t give a rat’s arse about your money. But if you ever keep something from me again, money or no money, I’ll feed you to the sheep.’”
Despite everything, I smile. “And he believed you?”
“Darling, he’d seen me handle a ram at shearing time. He knew I meant it.” Her voice warms. “Forty years later, here we are.”
The parallel is clear, even if she doesn’t hammer it home. If Sophia is worth keeping, she’ll understand my deception. If not…
“Jackson.” Her voice takes on that tone from when I was small and scared of disappointing her. “Love means being honest. All of yourself, not just the parts you think they’ll like. What Vanessa did was cruel, but letting it make you hide who you are is giving her power she doesn’t deserve.”
“I know.”
After we hang up, I pace my apartment, then grab my phone again. Dad answers on the second ring.
“Jack? Everything alright? Your mother said you’re bringing someone home.”
“Yeah, Dad. Actually, I wanted to ask you something. Could you…this might sound strange, but could you look into someone for me? Just basic stuff, nothing invasive.”
“Who?”
“Troy Bentley. He’s Sophia’s ex-husband. He’s being a right tosser about custody and finances, and I just want to make sure…” I trail off, not sure what I’m asking.
“You want to protect her.”
“Yeah.”
“Send me what you know. I’ll have Rawiri make some inquiries. Nothing heavy-handed.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Jack? Your mother’s right. You need to tell this woman the truth. Before you get here.”
“I know.”
But even as I hang up, I’m already finding excuses. Nine days left. Eight if you don’t count travel time.
My phone buzzes. Madison.
Madison: Hey Jack! Do you think Emma would teach me some rugby moves?
I smile, typing back:
Jack: Emma would love that. We can stop by the All Blacks shop at Sky Tower in Auckland too, get you proper gear.
Madison: OMG YES! Can we get Mom something too? She pretends she doesn't care about sports but she totally does.
This kid.
Jack: Absolutely. Maybe a Black Ferns jersey?
Madison: PERFECT. Mom will pretend she doesn't want it but she'll wear it all the time. Like that hoodie of yours she "borrowed."
My heart clenches. They’ve already made room for me in their lives, these two incredible women. And I’m about to risk it all because I was too scared to be honest from the start.
Another text from Madison:
Madison: Dad's being weird about the trip. Says we can't afford it. Mom told him it's none of his business. She's right, right?
Jack: Your mum's always right. Don't worry about the cost.
Madison: K! Can't wait! Mom's humming while doing paperwork. She NEVER hums. You make her happy!!!
Christ. The weight of what I’m risking sits heavier with each passing day.
I think of Vanessa’s cold calculation, the way she’d mapped out exactly how to extract maximum wealth from my family, and contrast it with Sophia’s fierce independence, her dedication to a job that exhausts her but fulfills her.
No. Sophia is nothing like Vanessa. She deserves the truth.
I drive to meet Sophia, already knowing today won’t be the day I tell her either. Tomorrow, maybe.
Or the next day.
Nine days to figure out how to say: “Remember that $300 I spent on wine? Well, about that…”
Nine days until she sees the estate and realizes just how much I’ve been hiding.
Nine days of being just Jack, before I have to be Jackson Charles McKenzie.
The countdown feels like a ticking bomb, and I’m the one who set the timer.