Kiwi Rules (New Zealand Ever After Book 1)

by Rosalind James

  Hope was silent for a long time, but finally said, “I’m not sure what to say. I’m not sure how much is my story to tell. I have a feeling I may have underestimated how much she needs to feel . . . free.”

  “Ah,” I said. “You heard that, then.”

  “Some of it. She’s accomplished so much, it didn’t occur to me that we still treated her like—well, a child.”

  “You’re older,” I said.

  “Nine years. And our mom died when Karen was nine herself, so you see . . .”

  “Your dad, though.”

  “No dad. Mine took off a long time earlier, and Karen’s took off a year or so before Mom died. He’s probably still alive. He just isn’t around. So you see, we both may have had some trust issues, especially some trust in . . . life, I guess you’d call it. I found somebody to work through them with me, eventually. Karen hasn’t. And she deserves to.”

  “She said the same thing about you, you know,” I said. “That you deserved to be happy. I couldn’t quite suss out what her problem was with Hemi, though. Why he loomed so large.”

  “Well, he does loom a little large,” Hope said with a smile.

  “True. If he paid for her to go to school, and to Uni, and took her in as well—I reckon I get it. Eternal gratitude may not be easy to sit with.”

  From behind us, a voice said, “Hey. You guys talking about me? Can’t leave you alone for a minute.”

  Her hair was sticking up some. Her eyes were sleepy. And I was pretty bloody happy to see her. “Hey,” I said. “How ya goin’? Come sit down. Need a tea?”

  “Oh, you know,” she said. “Probably. How long did I sleep? I feel like the princess in the tower, like there should be brambles all around us. How come you aren’t wearing your leg? Why is your skin looking like that? Oh. Wait. You haven’t been taking care of it. Jax.”

  I’d propped both legs on the chair beside me, as planned, and Hope hadn’t seemed too fussed, even though she was sitting opposite me, with too good a view of the damage. She hadn’t stared at it, but she also hadn’t looked like she was trying not to stare at it. Karen, on the other hand, shoved at both legs, said, “Lift up,” sat down, laid them across her lap, and asked, “Does it help if I rub it?”

  I cleared my throat. Something was happening to my chest, like a band tightening around it. It was bloody uncomfortable. “Yeh,” I said. “I had a swim and a massage while you were asleep, but I’ve been neglecting it, I guess.”

  “Mm,” she said. “I’d say you have, since all you’ve done for the past few days is take care of me.”

  I could let her do it for a few minutes, surely, if she wanted to. She’d asked. Her hands were strong, she wasn’t one bit shy about touching my stump, and when it got sore like this, there was no such thing as too much massage.

  Hope stood up and said, “Hemi got you a mocha, sweetie. Also a sandwich. Want me to heat them up for you?”

  “Yes, please,” Karen said. “You could bring me out some lotion from the bathroom, too. That’d feel better for Jax while I do this.” She put out a hand and gripped her sister’s. “Thanks for coming, you know? I’m really glad to see you. And hey—you can take care of me a little, and I’ll take care of Jax a little, and when you get home tonight, Hemi will take care of you. You know how they always say, ‘What goes around comes around?’ It never seemed true to me. I mean, I’d love to think karma bites people in the butt, but it almost never seems to happen, does it? Maybe that’s what it really means, though. Maybe it’s more of a ‘paying it forward’ thing. Huh. It’s an approach, anyway. It’s a concept. I kind of like it. I think I’ll start believing that instead.”

  “That way,” Hope said, “somebody else could hurt Josh.”

  Karen laughed. “Yeah. Exactly. Hey, I didn’t say I was going to be a Buddhist.”

  Jax

  I wore shorts to the hangi. I also wore my leg.

  My reception wasn’t too bad. Hemi had told people about the leg already, maybe, because nobody but the kids mentioned it or my face, and the “hero” word wasn’t uttered. I did have to take off the leg to show the kids—my one party trick—but that was it.

  At the moment, I was standing in the back garden with a few dozen others, looking out over the gentle green folds and hillocks leading to the sea below in the golden glow of late afternoon, watching Debbie-the-boy-duck waddle around the party in search of attention and pats like a golden retriever, and having a post-dinner beer with Hemi, Matiu, and Matiu’s older brother, a cheerful bloke named Tane who lived up the road.

  Karen was right. Hemi seemed a bit more natural here, fully immersed in the rhythms of Aotearoa and his whanau, though nobody would ever mistake him for a relaxed fella. He hadn’t built a porch earlier in the day. He’d put up trellises instead.

  Just as I was thinking that it felt good to be normal, Matiu said, “Something I was wondering, if you don’t mind a bit of shop talk.”

  Here we went. I tried not to tense up for a discussion of whatever an emergency doc would find fascinating. What my initial treatment had been, probably. Pity I didn’t remember much other than a tourniquet, the coppery smell of blood, helpless anger for the dead, and too much pain.

  I said, “No worries,” and didn’t mean it.

  Matiu asked, “How do you actually disarm a bomb? You see the bomb squad taking it away, but what happens after that, and how do you determine whether you can move it? And what about a suicide vest? Do you clear the area and let them do their thing, or . . .”

  I said, “‘Or,’ if you can, which you usually can’t. A handler sews them into the vests, usually, so they can’t have second thoughts. Mostly half out of their heads anyway, drugged to the eyeballs on tramadol. And in any case, the chance of somebody being around at the proper time who can stop it happening are pretty slim. You’ve got a better shot if the suspicious package isn’t on a person. As to how we do it—we use bomb-disposal robots as much as possible, that’s how. And hope we don’t get our legs blown off.”

  Matiu asked a few more questions, Hemi jumped in as well, and Tane looked amused, his eyes going from one to the other of us like he’d have opinions later on. While he was in bed with his wife, possibly, talking over the party, laughing over how hard some people made things for themselves, in the way that kind of bloke did, the kind to whom life came easy and laughing came easiest of all.

  We were all good—other than the amused judgment from Tane and the not-amused judgment from Hemi, of course—until Matiu said, “I’m wondering how that skill translates to civilian fields. There’s the cool head, of course. Otherwise, what? Something in electronics, maybe, or law enforcement, depending which part’s more important—the puzzle of it, or being on the sharp end.”

  “That’s cheerful,” Tane said with a laugh. “Don’t go into psychiatry, bro. You’d be a dead loss. Have patients killing themselves left and right, wouldn’t you.”

  “What?” Matiu asked.

  “The bloke could be wondering what comes next for him, now that he’s lost the leg and all,” Tane said. “Since you need me to draw you a map, you’ve just told him he’s got nothing to take with him. Good work. Of course, this could be about Karen. Subtle, boy. Very subtle.” He shook his head. “Should’ve made your move earlier, I reckon. Hard luck. You were never much chop at choosing between two good things.” He told me, “If you had two types of cake? Matiu’d ask for a bit of each. Maybe if you hadn’t kept on asking for a bit of each for the past twenty years or so, bro . . .”

  Matiu said, “Oh, I think I still have time.” Lightly, but I froze.

  “Pardon?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer me, just told his brother, “It’s not like he lost an arm or the use of his brain. I went to a conference a while back in Aussie, and there was a fella speaking with two blades on his legs. He was doing ice climbing, mountain triathlons, everything I’m not doing now with two good legs. They’ve got the next generation coming, he was telling us. Mind-controlled, with myoe
lectric sensors implanted in the remaining tissue. Means your mind’s talking to your leg in real time, relaying the message instantaneously.” He asked me, “What can that thing do? How far along are you in the process? That matters as well, probably.” Switching to doctor-mode just like that. I could still have been in jealous-partner mode. It was possible.

  “Going on five months from amputation,” I said, which was, yes, discussing my least-favorite subject, but as long as we kept it at the technical level, and nobody was asking me whether I wept at night—or what other skills I had, which were basically “none”—it wasn’t too bad. “Dynamic-response design, so you’re pushing off more like a regular foot. Running’s pretty good so far, but you’re right that I’m still new in it, and the stump’s still changing. The leg’s not mind-controlled, that’s for sure.” I paused, because I didn’t want to ask. Or rather—I wanted to ask. I just didn’t want to ask him. “Maybe you could send me a link to that talk,” I finally said. “If there is one.”

  “No worries,” Matiu said, and took another pull on his beer.

  “And if you’re looking for me to get myself blown up again and clear the field,” I said, “you should think again. I don’t plan to get out of the way.”

  A voice at my elbow said, “I hope somebody’s fighting over me. I feel entitled, as it’s my birthday.”

  Karen, coming up behind me. I put my arm around her and asked, “Good party, baby? Feeling all right?”

  “Yes.” Bright eyes, saucy smile. “And I should probably object to that, the ‘baby’ thing. We’ll talk about it later.”

  “Mm,” I said. “I could have that discussion.”

  Matiu said, “We could’ve been doing some fighting. Sounds like I lose, though.” He shot me a look and drank some more beer. “When you said she needed distraction, cuz,” he told Hemi, “I didn’t realize what you were planning. I could’ve distracted her.”

  Karen said, “What?”

  Hemi said, “Nothing. Should you be sitting?”

  “No,” she said. “I should be asking. What do you mean, I needed distraction? And—wait. What were you planning, and why did everybody else know?” She stepped out from under my arm. Not a good sign.

  Hemi said, “I told you. I was planning to check out those properties, and I didn’t have time.”

  Her mouth opened, her eyes narrowed, and then she snapped her mouth shut. “Wait. Wait. You never would have had time. I can’t believe I didn’t see that right away. It’s like I’ve been in a . . . a coma. A half coma. Whatever. If you’d been doing it yourself, you’d have come down here, flown around in a helicopter for a couple days with maximum efficiency, and shot your questions at Jax’s sister, preferably across a conference table for increased intimidation factor. You’d have looked at balance sheets in absolute silence, and gone home again without offering a clue about your decision. You were going to be camping with her for a week, so you could casually lose all your scary advantage, insisting on carrying everything that needed carrying and generally showing her your soft side? Yeah, right. Never mind that Hope’s pregnant, because you’d never have traveled around like that alone with another woman anyway. You’d have worried that Hope wouldn’t like it. In fact, you made the whole thing up. You did. You made it all up, and I’m here for nothing.”

  “No,” Hemi said, his face inscrutable. “I didn’t. I’m capable of doing business with a woman on a purely professional basis, and I was considering the investment.” He glanced at me. “I still am. We’ll discuss this later.”

  Did Karen listen to him? She did not. “Wait,” she said. “Wait. Jax. The other half doesn’t make sense, either. Why would the buyer and seller look at the places together at all? For a week? Was your sister ever really going? Didn’t it occur to you that this isn’t how real-estate deals work? She didn’t need you. She was giving you something to do so you’d feel useful, because she was worried about how depressed you were, with no leg and no job and all. She was pretending you could be helpful so you wouldn’t feel so useless.”

  Matiu was looking down at his beer, Tane was looking wise, and I was feeling stupid, exposed, and at a total loss. I’d never been in business. I’d bought one house in my life, and my agent had done all the career negotiations that needed doing. I’d never even bought a car, and I was standing here with two entrepreneurs, both of them wondering why I hadn’t known better, not to mention the too-handsome, too-charming doctor who’d just told me he wanted my woman and was here looking at and listening to all the reasons she could’ve made a better choice. And then there was the other part. That my sister—my family—had thought I needed rescuing, when I’d thought they’d seen that I was getting my strength back, and I’d made it completely clear that I didn’t need their help.

  I tried to think of something to say, and couldn’t. “Another beer,” I finally managed. And walked away with as little limp as I could possibly manage.

  The leg still felt like shit. The leg was the least of it.

  Karen

  I expected Jax to come back. Instead, he walked around the corner of the house, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he went.

  Fine. He was either getting upset and walking out, or, since Jax never got upset, he was walking out because I was upset, in which case, I didn’t need him, right?

  Of course I was upset. I wasn’t going to apologize for it. I told Hemi, “That was a crappy thing to do.”

  Tane said, “Music,” and melted away. Matiu looked between Hemi and me and said, “This should be interesting. Much as I’d love to hang about for the next chapter, though, I think I won’t.”

  “Been pushing it, mate, haven’t you,” Hemi said.

  “No,” Matiu said. “I don’t think I have. I think I’m throwing in my hand and walking away. If it doesn’t work out, though, Karen, you know where I live.”

  “Because that would be a great idea,” I said, but my heart wasn’t in it. Was I supposed to go after Jax, or was I not? I never knew these relationship rules. What had just happened? I asked Hemi, “Did I say something wrong, or is he being too sensitive? Or is he just . . . taking a break, or something?”

  “And I’m off,” Matiu said. “My limit on nobility is fast approaching.” And he was gone.

  I’d have killed—well, not killed, but I’d have done something stupid, at twenty, to have Matiu look at me like that, and to have him say something like that. Now, I barely registered him leaving. Partly because Koro was headed over, with Debbie following him like a duck who’d found her destiny. When he reached us, he said, “Something’s happened, eh. Everybody running off like they’ve been scalded, and Karen the birthday girl and all.”

  “Just that Hemi didn’t need me here at all, on this trip,” I said, “and he pretended he did. And that Jax’s family did the same thing to him. Like we’re both needy.”

  “You could think that everybody’s needy sometimes,” Hemi said. “There’s an idea for you. Could think that when you are, your whanau wants to help.”

  “You could also think,” I said, “that people who are feeling worthless don’t need to find out they actually are worthless.”

  “Nobody said you were worthless,” Hemi said.

  “You didn’t have to say it. I got it anyway. I should go find Jax.” Why had he left? He’d been so sweet, earlier today. And yesterday. And all the days before that. Could you really wreck all of that by saying one tactless thing? If you could, did you want to have to walk on eggshells like that with a man?

  No. You didn’t. I had to fight the wave of desolation from that one. Was my judgment still that bad? It hadn’t felt like it. It had felt like I was getting it right. It had felt perfect.

  Koro said, “You could give him a minute. If he walked away, it could be he needs some calm before he talks to you.”

  “Or to get hold of his temper,” Hemi said.

  “I don’t want him to be calm or to hold his temper,” I said. “At least, I don’t want to do it.” Koro smiled, a
nd I said, “All right. He needs to be calm. Obviously he does, because he always is. I’ll just stay here and yell at Hemi.” Or put off finding out the truth. One or the other.

  “You do that,” Koro said, and then he headed off. So did Debbie. I was a man-magnet, all right. One whose polarity had been reversed. Even with ducks.

  Once we were alone, I asked Hemi, “So tell me what I did wrong just now. I can tell you’re dying to.” I was hanging onto things, but not by much.

  “And here I thought,” he said, “that I’d set such a low bar for being in a relationship, anybody could clear it. You called him out in front of everybody and told him he was stupid. Think you also explained to everybody that he was depressed and not functioning well, but it’s hard to remember, as I had a metaphorical palm over my face at the time. You didn’t just do it in front of anybody, either. You did it in front of Matiu and me. Brilliant for his pride. At least you didn’t bring up his impotence problem, so there’s that.”

  “Oh.” That didn’t answer the question about the walking-on-eggshells thing. “All right, first off—how was I supposed to know Matiu had any interest in me? Not like he ever has before.”

  “Not when you were sixteen, maybe. Since then? You could be wrong. Never mind. You’re not a match.”

  “How do you know? You’re crushing my girlhood dreams here, you realize.” Which I cared about not at all. That was extremely weird. Matiu had made my heart flutter for half my life.

  Hemi said, “He needs somebody he doesn’t hesitate about. Somebody who makes him have to jump in, no matter how bad an idea it is. Somebody he’d lay down his life for. He needs to be worried he won’t get a chance with her, because she lets him know that the way he’s always done things isn’t good enough. How do I know that? Possibly from personal experience, as you’ve already pointed out.”