This time, I didn’t laugh. I did hold her tighter, though. I held her to me, close and warm, and said, “No. Oddly, no. Maybe because Koro had a wee chat with me about that, my last night up there.”
“He did? Then you were worried.”
I sent my hand on another slow journey down the smooth skin of her back. I’d soothed so many patients with my touch for so many years. You tried to make your hands gentle, to make them reassuring, and to get as much information as you gave. Some things, you couldn’t learn from a lab test.
This was like that, and it was completely different. I wasn’t touching her to heal her. I was touching her, maybe, to heal myself.
I said, “Maybe I was. I didn’t ask, but he knew. He said, ‘Go on back and find her, mate. Go on and tell her what’s in your heart, and listen to what’s in hers. If you want her, if you want those kids, if you want to do right by all of them ... go find her and tell her so.’ I asked him why he wouldn’t be worried about the marriage thing, and he said, ‘D’you think you’d be coming between a husband and wife, then?’ I said no, that as far as I could see, the marriage was over, that you were just waiting for the court to put a stamp on it, and he said, ‘So what’s the trouble?’ Which pretty much summed it up, I reckon.”
“Good,” she said. “Because I’m nearly thirty-four years old, and I’m not willing to wait until I’m thirty-six to find out what it feels like to want somebody who wants me just as much. Somebody who actually likes me as much as I like him. If that’s wrong, I’m going to be wrong, and I’m going to own it. I’ve tried to do everything right, and it hasn’t worked. I’m going to try doing it wrong.”
“I’m forty-three myself,” I said. “And not willing to wait until I’m forty-five to tell a woman I love her.”
I felt the quivering stillness in her. She was holding her breath, because she expelled it a moment later and said, “You do?”
I had to laugh again, and I had to hold her tighter, too. “I realized something today. Don’t ask me when. It may be embarrassing to admit it, because it may be that I realized it about five minutes ago. I thought this, whatever it is—I thought it was about sex. I’m not saying it wasn’t about sex, but ...”
“Oh.” It was a drawn-out syllable, like wonder. Like revelation. “I thought the same thing. That I was just, you know, desperate for it.”
I laughed again, but then I realized something I’d completely forgotten about. “Oh. Wait. The kids. Where are they? They OK?”
This time, she was the one laughing. Rolling over onto her back and laughing hard. “Matiu,” she finally said. “That’s such a fail. What if I’d said, ‘Oh, the kids! How could I have forgotten them?’”
I was grinning too. “Ah, yeh. Maybe so. Could’ve thought of them sooner, couldn’t I. And obviously they’re OK, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“My grandparents have them. Grandad said, ‘Spend the night, if you need it. Take your time. I’ll go back home for our night things. We’ve got nothing special to do, and the rest of our lives to do it. Nothing but making sure you go get that fella, anyway, and tell him what you’re thinking.’ They’ve been shoving me out of my good-girl nest ever since I met you, in fact. It’s a bit like finding out that Santa isn’t real, discovering how morally suspect my lovely grandparents are. Plus, your flowers worked on Nan.”
“The question is,” I said, “did they work on you.”
“Well, obviously.” She tried to scowl at me. “I flew straight over here, didn’t I? Could be I’m a cheap date.”
“No,” I said. “I’m pretty sure you’re an expensive date, judging by the way you’ve turned my entire life upside down.”
“Oh,” she said. “Well, me too. I couldn’t believe I really felt what I felt. I thought it must be hormones or something. That’s why I said what I said. When I hurt you.”
I wanted to say, “Never mind.” What I said instead was, “You did hurt me. I couldn’t stand to be that bloke again. Or still.”
“The money on the nightstand,” she said.
“Yeh,” I said. “The good time. It hurt, thinking that was all you wanted. I couldn’t stand to be nothing but your good time.”
“Well, actually,” she said. “You just were that, and it was pretty special, in case I didn’t tell you. You just weren’t only that.”
“Also,” I said, “your grandparents like me. That’s good news.”
“Yes, and they’re going to come over and mind the kids twice a week. That was why they were there. Announcing it, eh. My mum’s taking them as well, once a week, at my parents’ house. And I can’t even feel bad about that.”
“Why should you feel bad?” It was nice, lying here. It could’ve been fraught, emotionally, but it was just ... nice. And I wanted her to stay until morning.
“Dunno, really.” She sighed. “Assumptions upended. Ask me another day, when I know what I’m doing. Oh, wait. I never know what I’m doing. I just go ahead anyway.”
“I think,” I said, “that you know what you’re doing, you just don’t know you know. You’re an artist, aren’t you. Artists go where the art takes them. How haven’t you been stable, though, with your kids? And maybe you felt unstable because Max wanted to keep you that way.”
A long silence, and then she said, “Whoa. Novel concept.”
“Easy to see from outside.”
“As you’re forty-three and wise.” There was that bubble of laughter in her voice again. “Seriously? Forty-three?”
“Sadly.” We were both laughing again. “Reckon I know why Koro’s pushing me into your arms. Afraid I’m passing my sell-by date, or possibly about to drop dead. Wifeless. Childless. Tragic.”
“No,” she said. “Maturing like a fine cheese.” I turned my head to stare at her, and she started to laugh. “A wee bit of mold on the rind, maybe, but oh, well. We can cut that off.”
A couple minutes, then, of both of us lying on our backs, laughing like fools, until she wiped her eyes on the sheet and said, “So. Want to hear about my dad?”
“Uh ... yeh,” I said. “Good or bad, I need to know.”
“I went and talked to him yesterday. I told him he’d been wrong. It was a bit fraught. Or, possibly, I cried. Pretty earth-shattering, actually.”
She was still going for her usual breezy style, but it wasn’t working. I could hold her, could let her know I was here, so I did that, and after a minute, she said, “I wasn’t sure he’d do anything, you know? I thought he would. I hoped he would, but I didn’t know. And I couldn’t come talk to you, I couldn’t ask you to see me, not unless I’d made it right. Unless I knew you were safe. I couldn’t do that to you, after what you’ve done for me.”
I had to stop and catch my breath. After that, I said, “What have I done for you? I’ve come to see you because I wanted you. No nobility in that. I was a bit confused about why, maybe, but if you mean on that night when Max had Isobel? I couldn’t have kept myself away.”
“Matiu.” She’d turned to face me, and I’d turned to face her, too. Our hands on each other, our eyes meeting, gold and green, two people drawn to each other against all reason, against everything they’d ever been told was right, everything they’d ever thought was the way their life should work. “Don’t you see,” she said gently, “that you’ve been my hero? Don’t you see that?”
I couldn’t answer. I tried, and I couldn’t.
She had her hand on my cheek. I hadn’t shaved for a couple days, but she ran her fingers over the rough surface as if she loved it and said, “You don’t believe it, but it’s true. When you got to me, there on the grass? When you got my kids safe? When you got Isobel and me safe? You can say you were just doing your job. You can say it about when you sent Max away, too, though I’m guessing there aren’t many doctors who would’ve done it. You brought me a burger, and you got me pain meds, and you weren’t my doctor then. You took me to breakfast and made me feel like you wanted to be there. You made me feel beautiful when I was covered with brea
st milk and I was so embarrassed about it. And when I was out of my mind with worry, you came, even though it was two in the morning and raining, and you’d had a hard day. Every single time, every single way, you’ve been my hero. That’s why I love you, don’t you see? Because you’re so good.”
She’d choked up, and I wasn’t sure I was entirely dry-eyed myself. I tried to say something, and I couldn’t. She laughed, a watery sound, and said, “Also, possibly, because you’re so beautiful. And you make love like nobody I’ve ever known. Of course, I haven’t known many, so there’s that. Could be there are heaps of blokes like that around, and I’ve just missed them.”
Finally, I was laughing myself, and she said, “So. Uncomfortable scene behind us—want to know what my dad did?”
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
“He went in there today,” she said, “and met with your committee, or with some of them, or something, because not everybody was available. I didn’t get the exact details, because he isn’t what you’d call ‘forthcoming.’ He told them he’d done the research, had asked around—and my dad’s ‘around’ is more thorough than anybody else’s, trust me, and goes higher up the food chain, too—and he found that there’s nothing that says a doctor can’t have a relationship with an ex-patient.”
“Which, of course,” I said, “is what I told them. And what they already knew.”
“He also said we didn’t have a relationship,” Poppy went on, “which isn’t quite so nice. Said, as he told me, with exactly zero tact, ‘My daughter’s a couple months out from having a baby, and Te Mana’s some kind of Casanova, from what I hear. Some sort of connoisseur. Seems to me that if I knew Poppy couldn’t seriously tempt a fella like that, and I’m her dad, you lot could’ve figured it out.”
I gave a shout of laughter, and then I grabbed her, rolled her onto her back, kissed her sweet mouth, and promised her, “You tempt this Casanova. He seriously said ‘Casanova’?”
She was laughing, too, fortunately. “Yes. Isn’t that terrible?” She waved an arm, which wasn’t easy, because I was still on top of her. “No words. I have no words.”
I rolled to my back, still grinning. “And then what? Can’t wait. I expect to hear about my erectile dysfunction next, that I couldn’t possibly have done it.”
“No.” She breathed it. “Do you have erectile dysfunction?”
I did my best to scowl at her. “No. Stop it, woman. Want me to show you again?”
“Oh. Pity. That would’ve been a lovely success story, that I’d cured you like you cured me.”
“I cured you?” That got my attention.
Some more arm-waving. “I’ve had a little problem. Never mind. If I have it again, I’ll tell you. Instead of, you know, faking it.”
I wanted to follow this line of inquiry. Instead, I said, “So what happened next? I can tell there’s a ‘next.’ Jennifer wouldn’t have come all the way here to tell me that.”
“Next,” she said, with relish, “he said that if they were any bloody good at their jobs, they’d have given the push pretty smartly to some interfering, entitled stickybeak who came around telling them their jobs. How’s he meant to trust them to handle his donations competently if they don’t have more mana than that? I imagine he glared. Could be he shouted as well. Scary fella, my dad. Scary rich fella. And then he told them that they’d better not be changing their minds now just because of those donations. He expected them to find their spines and do what was right. And then he left, and I’m guessing left them in piles of jelly on the floor, wondering what they were actually meant to do now. Rescind their decision? Not rescind it, because that didn’t show independent judgment? Imagine the dilemma.”
“Yeh,” I said. “That’s a tough one. But as my suspension does seem to be lifted, according to Jennifer ...”
“Yes,” Poppy said. “That’s what he really rang me to tell me. That they’d rescinded it, and restored your lost wages, too. Put a note in the file. ‘Allegation found to be unsubstantiated.’ And then I rang Karen and asked her to find out your address, and she did, and I came. So there you are. All sorted.” She smiled at me cheerily. “Although if my dad finds out you’re banging his daughter senseless after all, who knows?”
41
How to Listen
Matiu
She didn’t stay the night. She barely stayed for dinner, which was eggs and toast, because I didn’t have anything else and we didn’t have time to go out.
“I don’t have a breast pump with me,” she said, pulling on her dress again after we’d finished eating. In bed, which had been nice. “That’s the sad and somewhat embarrassing truth.” She leaned over, though, and kissed me. She put some effort into it, too. Dress half on, open over thighs, belly, and breasts. That was fun. Afterwards, though, she kept on dressing. Bugger.
All those things Connie had said about me in New World were true. I didn’t spend the night. I didn’t bring women to my place. I sent flowers after I’d taken them out to dinner. A very high-end dinner, because I was a good time. I was attentive. I was thoughtful, or I pretended to be. Now, I was closing my door behind Poppy, and I was alone.
And in the morning, I got flowers.
Not red roses. Nothing as pedestrian as that. A pink orchid in a pot, every blossom featuring extravagant deep-pink-spotted lips and a little yellow nub in the center.
There was a card, too. No name. Seven words. Well, eleven.
Danger and delight grow on one stalk.
Scottish proverb for you.
I laughed out loud, and then I rang her up and said, “Two possibilities. One, you realize how much this thing looks like, well, you. Other than the red spots, because that would’ve had me seriously concerned. Either that, or you’re trying to tell me I was a good time. I just realized that’s what sending flowers the morning after may look like. And here I thought I was getting it right.”
She was laughing. “What? You sent me flowers. Was that not meant to be romantic? Don’t tell me that, boy. Don’t crush my dreams, because those were the most beautiful flowers I ever got. Practically the most beautiful ones I ever saw. You do that for all the girls, though?”
I was smiling. Foolishly, I was sure. “No. Just you. It’s harder, maybe, if you’ve done it before, to make it special, and I wanted it to be special.”
“It worked,” she said. “They made me feel beautiful.”
I wanted to be with her. Why wasn’t I? Possibly because she had work to do, and so did I. I’d got the confirmation this morning of the Ethics Committee’s reversal, and I’d also found I’d already been scheduled to work today. Second shift, four to midnight. They hadn’t let any grass grow, but that suited me. That was my world sliding back into place.
“And,” Poppy went on now, “yes, I may have searched and found the absolutely most labia-like orchid available. Maybe I thought it was funny, or maybe I thought it was hot, or maybe both. Can’t decide. Also, orchids have a meaning. Want to know?”
“Yeh,” I said. “I do.”
“Virility,” she said. “Surprise! See what a flattering message it was? Also how well my proverb worked? An orchid’s also for fertility, which we’ll gloss over. I asked my gynecologist for birth control, by the way, when I was there finding out that I’m not diseased. Good news.” Still keeping it breezy, and that other thing, too. Keeping it on the surface. She went on, “Oh, and pink orchids, specifically, are for femininity. So there you go.”
Wait. This wasn’t going in the right direction. Or was it? I was pretty sure not, but it was too hard, not seeing her face. I said slowly, “Wait. Poppy.”
“Yeh?”
I thought about what to say. About whether it would be moving too fast, scaring her off. And then I abandoned the thought. What were we doing here but moving too fast? What was this whole thing but risky? I said, “I’d like to come see you. I have to work at four, though, and it’s ...” I checked my watch. “Eleven. I could come for lunch, maybe.”
“Not much
time. And I have the kids.” It didn’t quite sound dismissive. It sounded tentative, like she didn’t know what I meant by it. Also like the only reason I’d come around would be for sex.
But then, I didn’t know what she’d meant, either, by that breeziness. Was she thinking it was too often to see each other? That she felt pressured? Or was it something else?
This was more of Koro’s advice, then. Tell her what’s in your heart, and listen to what’s in hers. You may think it’s easier to listen over a phone, since that’s all you can actually do on a phone, but you’d be just exactly wrong. You can hear over a phone, but you can’t really listen. To listen, you have to see, because listening is more than hearing. It’s feeling and seeing and sensing what the words mean. You find that out, if diagnosis is your job.
I said, “I know that I have to work, and I like your kids. I’d like to come anyway. I’ll bring the lunch.”
“Not for Olivia,” she said. “She only wants one thing. Lettuce sandwiches and carrot sticks.”
This wasn’t the point. I asked anyway. “No protein?”
“I put cheese in there,” she said. “With black specks. I tell her the cheese and bread are special garden earth and seeds. She’s being a rabbit just now. I think it was seeing you in Katikati, so you know. You had her pretend to be a rabbit once, and she remembers. You also told her albatrosses eat squids and eyeballs, which is why she’s switched from birds. She may be in love with you. It’s possible. Fair warning.”
Poppy
I’d handled that all wrong, I was pretty sure. The ease of the night before was gone. Why?
I’d thought the flower was brilliant, and even sexy, but he’d sounded almost as if he hadn’t liked getting it.
He wanted to come over. To talk, I could tell he meant. Why? Was the flower too much? Did he think I was pushing him? That I’d misconstrued what he’d said the night before?
Stone Cold Kiwi (New Zealand Ever After Book 2) Page 30