by PJ Vye
“How do you know?”
“Because I always have been.”
“That’s the right answer,” she beamed.
She reached out for him, and he clung to her. They both had to work hard to keep themselves afloat and kiss at the same time. Any thought of the cold was gone, and their combined heat made the water feel refreshing and clean. When their legs grew tired, they moved to the jetty and lay on the heat of the wooden slats, exploring each other’s faces and skin, every body part a new experience.
When the sun fell beyond the trench walls, Mataio forced himself to stand. “How do you feel about getting out of here?” he asked.
“Nervous.”
“About me or the ladder?”
She smiled. “The ladder.”
“My mother was right when she said you could escape the world here. Do you think you’ll feel differently about me when we get back to the top?”
“Maybe,” she answered.
“Then we should just stay here,” said Mataio, and sat back down.
She reached over and kissed him. “Or I might feel like I want to have a sleepover at your house.”
Mataio was on his feet and reaching out to pull her to her feet. “Start climbing. Right now.”
“But you promised a piggy-back.”
“Let’s save that as a last resort.”
Sunny began the climb and took each step much faster than the descent.
“Are you in some kind of hurry?” he called from behind.
“Yes, I am,” she laughed. “What about you?”
“You’ve no idea.”
“Oh, I think I do.”
When they reached the top, they held hands and walked back to the frangipani tree. As he dried her with his towel, he said, “I wrote a list of reasons why my life was worth living.”
“Really? Was I on it?” she asked.
He grinned. “You featured in a number of areas.”
“That’s good. Because I wrote a set of rules, too. You want to hear them?”
“No.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
“Wear something nice,” Poe said. “Put some makeup on.”
Sunny pouted. “But it’s too hot and it drips straight off my face.”
“Just do it.”
“Why don’t you just tell me what the occasion is?”
But no-one would say a word. Sunny had been told it was a cultural event and you had to be Samoan to attend. In all her years living here, this had never happened before. She’d been told she could attend later—once the initial proceedings took place. She hated being out of the loop but tried to be sensitive. As a non-Samoan, she understood there were some things she couldn’t be a part of. But Atali was expected to attend, and it seemed only fair Sunny should know what her daughter was participating in. Even Mataio had taken the side of everyone else and insisted she drop Atali to Aunt Tulula’s earlier in the day. Aunt had been baking as if she were attending a funeral and there were food dishes over every surface of the kitchen. When Sunny had asked what it was for, Aunt dismissed her question and started yabbering on endlessly about Margo and her unmarried son.
Sunny’s orders were to be ready by 11.30 a.m. and a taxi would collect her. Not Junior, not Mataio, not Poe, nor any of her neighbourhood friends were free to drive her. And as she didn’t have a car of her own, she had to do as she was asked. She showered and shaved her legs, then made a coffee and sat a while. If she was honest, she felt a little abandoned. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so excluded before.
Sunny tidied up some of Atali’s pencils and paper and stacked them on the end of the couch. Atali had drawn a picture of the three of them with a pony and a baby sister. She’d been asking for both for Christmas and Mataio had been keen to grant her wishes.
Sunny dressed in a traditional ei lava lava in bright pinks with white flowers and put a frangipani in her hair. She added some mascara and a touch of pale pink on her eyelids, gloss on her lips. All her life, she’d never really felt beautiful. But Samoa had a way of turning your ideas of beauty upside down. Samoans accepted you in a way that made you feel like you couldn’t be un-pretty, and it didn’t matter how much you weighed, or how straight your teeth were. Only that you belonged. Family, community, country. So, when she looked at her reflection now, she was surprised to find some of her negative self-talk had returned. Why did she have to be so blonde? Was she still a foreigner to them?
The car arrived only a few minutes late, and she enjoyed the air-conditioned ride.
“I take it you know where I’m going?” she asked the driver in Samoan as they turned onto the main road.
He nodded.
“You going to tell me?”
He shook his head and smiled.
Sunny wished Mataio was going to be there. But he’d called to say he had to work an extra shift and couldn’t make it. Now that he had his full medical licence back, and surgeons were limited, he’d begun doing days of general surgery in addition to the trauma surgery. His pay increased and they were saving for a home. But he would have worked for free. His gratitude scale was through the roof these days, and sometimes she wanted to slap him, just to stop him from smiling all the time.
The car travelled along the main south coast road and then turned at Lalomanu beach.
The locals had taken back ownership of many of the beaches that had been reserved for the fancy resorts. Lalomanu beach was a beautiful long stretch of sand with straw-thatched-roof bungalows for shade.
She was surprised to see so many cars lined up along the road. No car parks or curbs existed in this part of the island. The driver pulled up alongside the other cars and said, “This is it. Have fun.”
Sunny got out of the car, a little cautiously. She couldn’t see any people or events in progress, but she could see the food, covering the benches under the annexed roof. She walked over the small sandhill toward the beach, and saw a long line of people, two by two in a guard of honour formation, spanning the beach for metres.
Still completely oblivious to why the people would be standing that way, she headed toward one end of the line, leaving her shoes behind. Music began playing—a guitar and a group of singers sang Ta'oto taia lo'u Au. The sound joined in with the waves on the shore, turning it into a reggae soundtrack.
The closer she got, the more people she recognised. Their neighbours and good friends, Lagi and Fetu Sua. The farmers who traded their goods with Junior’s farm, the teachers and workers at the refuge, Violoa, Malia, Pam, Aby.
Each of her friends passed her a flower. They all seemed to know why they were there. They eased her inside the line and she followed it, taking a flower from friends on each side, some crying, some smiling so widely they looked set to burst. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew what was coming—she’d heard of this tradition. When her arms were bulging with flowers, she reached Junior and Poe, Kaloe and Kaiki, Aunt Tulula and Uncle Akamu. Ipo sat staring at the people around him, as astounded as she was.
Her tears started when she glanced at the end of the line and saw Mataio standing there. Atali’s hand was clasped in his, a flower in the other. Sunny continued to hug each family member, their happy tears mixing with her own.
She hadn’t been in Samoa when Junior proposed to Poe but when it had been described to her, she’d thought it a beautiful tradition.
Now it was her turn.
Mataio stood in a traditional lavalava, a new tattoo malofie ring around his right arm.
The singing stopped but the guitar kept playing as Mataio reached out his hands to Sunny. She handed her bouquet to Aunt and took his hand in one of hers, Atali’s hand in the other.
“Sunny, you are my family, my love, my life. You never gave up on me. Where I saw weakness, you saw strength. Where I saw brokenness and desperation, you saw tenderness and hope. Where I saw hate, you saw love. And I only ever wanted you. In Atali, you have given me the most precious gift a woman can give a man. I will spend my life living up to your standard, and
when I fall short, I know that you will hold me up. I have more than I ever expected. I promise to love you and cherish you both, for the rest of my life.”
Atali handed him a small box, a grin so big her wobbly front tooth bent.
Mataio got down on one knee and in front of all their friends and family, on a sunny stretch of Samoan sand, said the words she thought she’d never hear. “Sunny Marie Johnson. Will you marry me?”
Sunny covered her face with her hands, her tears making her nose run inelegantly. There were lots of phone cameras recording but she couldn’t care less. “Yes,” she said. He slipped the diamond-set ring on her finger.
Cheehoo rang out around them as the singers began another chorus. Mataio kissed her and when she wrapped her arms around his neck, he lifted her off the ground. Eventually they were pulled apart by others as the dancing and celebration began.
Once the horizon turned pink, and the guests thinned, Mataio took Sunny by the hand and they walked the length of the beach, watching the tide come in. Mataio told her how difficult the event had been to organise without her finding out.
“So you didn’t suspect?”
Sunny twisted the ring on her finger, unable to look away from its brightness. “Not at all.”
“What did you think we were doing?”
“Some kind of secret Samoan business. At my lowest point, I might have considered cults and animal sacrifices.”
“So, a marriage proposal was a welcome surprise, then?” His eyes creased as he turned to study her answer.
“Better than the alternative.”
“It would have been hard to say no in front of all those people.”
“That tactic wasn’t lost on me.” She grinned.
“Would you have said no, if I’d asked without an entourage?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe you should ask again.”
Mataio obligingly bent down on one knee and she handed him back the ring. “Sunny, will you marry me?”
“Yes. Do you know why?”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not like anyone else I’ve ever met. You were worth the wait, Mataio. In every way.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes,” she said, pulling him to his feet. “And because no-one else asked me today.”
“That’ll do.”
He kissed her against the backdrop of a pastel-coloured sunset, with the chorus of ‘Cheehoo’ ringing in the distance.
THE END
Epilogue
Want to know what happened when Laurence arrived in England and went in search of Karina? Well I’m glad you asked?
Told in three chapters. Available for free, to my loyal friends and book reading family. Coming soon. Sign up to my newsletter and I’ll let you know when it’s ready to download.
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Thank you for taking this journey with me, Mataio and Sunny.
Love PJ x
Acknowledgments
Jen Katemi Thank you for agreeing to edit this novel, for holding me up and making me better.
Justine Lewis, as always, my AA partner (accountablity anon) who kicks my butt, keeps me on track and boosts my morale every time. Thanks for your feedback and keeping me hopeful.
To my Momentum friends for your ideas, inspiration, business support and constant encouragement. Sarma for answering my dumb questions without even blinking.
Finally, thanks to you, my readers. It’s an honour. PJ x
About the Author
PJ Vye has spent a number of years in music education and finds the world’s obsession with fame and celebrity intriguing. There is nothing she enjoys more than exploring this fascination in her novels.
PJ Vye is the youngest of eight siblings, grew up on a dairy farm and rode horses on weekends, where she dreamt up stories, mostly about all the different ways her characters could fall in love.
In her spare time she creates musical things and jams with good friends. She loves drinking wine but hates writing biographies. Sometimes she needs to drink wine in order to write biographies.
You can find more about PJ and her other stories online at www.pjvye.com
You can subscribe to her newsletter for updates on new releases here at https://www.pjvye.com/subscribe
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Praise for PJ Vye
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