New Zealand Brides Box Set

by Diana Fraser

  “You can laugh if you like, and you can not believe me if you like.” She shrugged. “Makes no difference to me. I’m simply saying I can see what your mother did to you. I can see its effect in the way you live your life, the hurt that’s curled up inside you and that you protect, every minute of every day.”

  Zane froze, half way through peeling a kumara, the thick strip of peel caught mid curl. He stared at the orange vegetable, the sticky starch, white on his hands. He cleared his throat and finished peeling the kumara, then tossed it into the saucepan of water.

  “What you have, Gran, is an imagination.”

  “Always had that, lad. Life’s more fun with a bit of imagination. But I’ve always had my feet firmly on the ground, too, as you well know. And also, as you well know, I’m telling the truth. What I don’t know is what you’re going to do about it. I’ve been watching you since you returned, waiting for you to loosen up, but you haven’t.”

  He plucked another kumara from the pile. “Loosening up isn’t what I need, Gran. I’ve too many responsibilities.”

  “You can’t look after everyone, boy. Not your kids in the school, not your whole family, nor your whole tribe. It’s too much. Especially when you haven’t looked after yourself first.”

  “I do look after myself.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I mean when are you going to get yourself a girl?”

  Involuntarily, his glance was drawn to the TV where Rachel was sipping the contents of a spoon. The peeler slipped and jabbed his finger. Damn.

  “Yes, I heard you’d been seen with Rachel. She has her own issues of course, but she’s a good girl. You could do worse.”

  “What issues? You mean the fact she’s on TV for a living?”

  Gran waved her hand dismissively. “Nah! If she hasn’t told you then it’s not up to me to tell you.”

  Zane’s interest was piqued. He couldn’t imagine what his gran was talking about but he knew better than to continue to quiz her.

  “It doesn’t matter anyway. Rachel’s going to live and work in the US soon. And I’m staying here. I don’t want anything to do with that kind of lifestyle.”

  “Not all girls are the same, my lad. I met your other lady, the one you were engaged to, remember, and I knew she wasn’t ever right for you.”

  “How? With those x-ray eyes of yours?” Zane rose. “It might have been nice if you’d told me.”

  “Sit down. You’ve more kumara to peel.”

  He sat. He might be in charge of students, might be on his board of trustees for his tribe, but if his gran told him to sit, he sat.

  “Now, Rachel, she’s different,” continued his gran.

  He bit his lip but didn’t speak. It looked like he was going to have to sit through a Rachel-praising session whether he liked it or not.

  “She’s had her problems in the past.”

  Again he looked up at his gran, dying to know what these problems were, but, on seeing the look on her face, he knew he wouldn’t get anywhere.

  “But,” she continued, “she’s worked hard, made a success of herself. Now she’s back, trying to sort herself out before moving forward once more.”

  “Gran, how do you know all this? Are you making it up?”

  Gran simply tapped her forehead. “I have eyes, I can see.”

  “Not well, you can’t,” he couldn’t help saying, after looking into Gran’s rheumy eyes.

  He received a sharp slap on his leg. “I may be old, but I’m not going to accept any of your cheek.” She pointed a gnarled finger at him. “And you know exactly what I mean. She’s here for a reason and it’s not to try and tame that old man’s garden.”

  “Jim’s garden, you mean?”

  “Yeah, that old man.”

  “He must be younger than you.”

  “Me and him clashed way back. We disagreed over something. No, Rachel’s not here for him or his place.”

  “He’s her dad, and it looks like she enjoys his company.”

  The old lady shrugged. “She’s not here for him,” she repeated firmly.

  Despite himself, Zane’s interest was caught. “So why do you think she’s here?”

  Gran’s gaze held him levelly. For a moment Zane could almost believe she had x-ray vision. Then she picked up another kumara. “I reckon you’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Doubt that. Rachel and I aren’t seeing each other, no matter what the family says.”

  Gran smiled as if she knew different and rose to her feet with a stiffness which betrayed exactly how bad her arthritis was, and looked up into the sunshine. “It’s been another glorious day on God’s earth.” She smiled.

  What was it with old people? Zane mused as he carried the large pot of peeled kumara to a bench out of the sun. His grandmother had always been the pivot, the fulcrum of his world, the strong one, the wise one. Her feet had always been on the ground, and her reason had always been sound and based on logic. But over the last year or so, she’d been given to openly praising God and the world, as if what stood between her and the next world was so insubstantial that it was hardly there. She’d always gone to church, always abided by Christian teachings, but now? Her religion had become an everyday thing, a real part of her.

  He shrugged again and helped her up the path to the marae, to pass the afternoon away with the other elderly kuia, before going up the hill toward his own cottage.

  He felt like he’d gotten to know a lot more about Rachel by watching her on the TV than he had by spending a week in her company. And, despite what his gran said, he wasn’t sure he liked what he saw. He’d spent ten years living the life of a professional rugby player and all that that entailed—fast cars, beautiful women, media attention. And that was why he was where he was now: because he’d grown tired of the shallowness of that lifestyle. He’d wanted real. And the Rachel he was looking at on the TV was the opposite of that.

  Rachel gave a cursory knock on Gabe’s front door before opening it. The narrow hallway was empty. She wandered through to the study where Gabe was practically knee-deep in paperwork.

  “Thank God you’re back,” said Rachel, waving a bottle of wine at him.

  He raised an eyebrow and dropped a pile of papers. “Good to see you, too.”

  Rachel walked into the kitchen and pulled open the cutlery draw, fishing around for a bottle opener. Gabe followed.

  “So, why the drama, Rach?”

  She cut off the top of the seal, and twisted the corkscrew into the cork, sending it in at an angle. “Why don’t you have a modern corkscrew? They’re so much easier,” she grumbled.

  Gabe reached out for it. “Give it here. If you’ve gone to the trouble of bringing such a good bottle of wine, the least I can do is make sure you don’t get bits of cork in it.”

  Rachel opened the cupboards and withdrew two mis-matched wine glasses. She held them up the light and screwed up her face. “Where on earth did you get these from?”

  Gabe pushed aside his unruly hair and glanced at the glasses. “From the charity shop down the road.”

  Rachel tutted. “You’re a doctor, for goodness sake. You earn enough to buy a decent wine glass or three.”

  He popped out the cork and poured the wine into the glasses, sending her a wry glance. “You’re in a bad mood.”

  Rachel pushed her hand through her hair, accepting the glass. “I’m in a sad mood, is what I’m in,” she said quietly, taking a sip of wine.

  “Hm,” said Gabe, holding the wine up to the light as he swirled it around. “That doesn’t sound so good.”

  “It’s not. It’s the opposite of good.” She looked around. “I’m hungry. Have you any food?”

  “No, I ate in Christchurch. If I’d known you were coming I’d have got something in. You should have told me yesterday when I rang home.”

  “I didn’t know I was coming here yesterday.”

  “So what’s happened today?” Gabe rummaged through the larder and found a family bag of chippies. He offered Rac
hel a bag and she tore it open and took a handful. She never ate chippies but today she didn’t care.

  “Everything,” she muttered darkly through a mouthful. She grimaced at their tartness and checked the packet. “These could so be improved with less salt and toning down that… ugh, that unnatural flavor.” She began reading through the list of ingredients in very small print on the back of the packet.

  “I wouldn’t do that, Rach.”

  She sighed. “You’re probably right,” she said, continuing to eat. She opened the french doors which led out into the small courtyard surrounded by the back of other houses and shops. Gabe threw out a couple of cushions and she sat down on the back door step.

  He sat beside her, nudging her with his shoulder. “Good to see you, sis. Even if you are in a bad mood.”

  She smiled up at him. “I’m so glad you’re back, Gabe. Everyone’s been driving me crazy!”

  “Amber?”

  Rachel shook her head. “Amber’s just Amber, living in Amber world, on Amber time.”

  “So nothing new there, then. And Dad?”

  “Dad! We’ve been working on the land, sorting out those dead trees but he doesn’t seem very grateful.”

  Gabe paused. “We? As in Zane?”

  She took another sip of wine and looked directly ahead, toward the back gate beyond which was a narrow alley and another backyard. “Zane and me.”

  “Zane and you, eh?”

  She shot him a black look. “Yes.”

  “So why the bad mood?”

  “We fell out. Seems he’s not impressed about me being on the TV.”

  “Ohhh.”

  The way Gabe said “Oh” irritated Rachel. It was too long and all-knowing, as if what she’d said described something which Gabe understood perfectly. “It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t that kind of ‘oh.’”

  “What kind of ‘oh’ was it then?”

  Rachel paused. “The ‘oh’ began as a surprised ‘oh’, quickly became kind of intrigued ‘oh’, and then…”

  “Then?”

  “Sort of changed into a happy sighing kind of ‘oh’ and then a sad ‘oh’.”

  “That’s a lot of different kinds of ‘oh’s in only a few short weeks,” said Gabe.

  “Yes. It’s been that kind of month.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their wine. Rachel was waiting for Gabe to say something, to ask her more questions. And she’d be ready with a tirade. But Gabe said nothing. She let the silence lengthen and then shook her head.

  “Gabe Connelly! You’re my brother and I love you, but I’ll never understand you. Why don’t you say something? Any normal person would have asked me a dozen questions by now!”

  “Would they?” Gabe asked mildly. “Then I guess I’m not normal.”

  “You’re normal, all right. I just don’t know whether it’s lack of interest or some kind of professional thing which you employ with your patients, giving them time to tell you stuff.”

  He took another sip of the wine. “This is good wine.”

  “Gabe,” she said in a warning tone.

  He grinned. “And I am interested. Tell me, Rachel,” he asked in a pseudo psychiatrist voice, “what appears to be the problem?”

  “He’s your mate, right? Zane, I mean.”

  “Sure is. I’ve known him for years. I knew him before his mum took him away to Auckland, and I knew him in his years as All Black but I see a lot more of him now. He’s a good guy.”

  “Then why doesn’t he like me?” Rachel couldn’t quite prevent her question sounding petulant. She pouted a little as she met Gabe’s amused glance.

  “I’m sure he likes you. Who wouldn’t?”

  “Him apparently.”

  “So… are you going to tell me exactly what happened?”

  Rachel closed her eyes against the late sunshine and leaned her head against the side of the doorpost. “We were getting on really well. We’d met quite a few times…and things were going really well. He offered to help sort out the garden for Dad and in return I said I’d help out at the fundraiser at the school.”

  “So far so impersonal, but good.”

  “Oh…There was personal, too.”

  He raised his hand. “I don’t want to hear about that. Tell me what happened next. Only the impersonal stuff.”

  “The fundraiser. Zane asked me to help out and I thought I’d offer my services, you know, as me. I thought it would help everyone if I did what I usually do. You know…”

  “Put on a performance.”

  “Exactly,” said Rachel.

  “But Zane doesn’t like performances. It’s not his style.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t know that. Of course I do now. But I’ve no idea why. What’s up? Why is he so weird about it?”

  “You have to understand that Zane Black isn’t like most other people. He sees life in two colors—black or white. He lived his version of the high life as an All Black which, believe me, was far tamer than any of his team mates. And he fell in love with a woman who wanted all that Zane’s fame could bring her. Trouble was, he was in it for the game, and not for the glory. She left as soon as she realized that he had no interest in hanging around once he’d sustained his injury. He refused commentating jobs, TV work, the lot. That wasn’t him. And unfortunately it was her. He was shattered when she broke off their engagement. And it’s made him wary, I guess, of anything or anyone which smacks of pretense.”

  “And you think I smack of pretense?”

  Gabe grinned. “Of course not. You’re like Dad. You enjoy putting on a bit of a performance and there’s nothing wrong with that. But you don’t let it go to your head and you’re as normal as me.”

  “I’m not that normal,” said Rachel.

  “Well, normal enough.” Gabe took another sip of wine. “I can imagine how the rest played out. Zane discovered you mid-performance and decided the budding friendship was over.”

  “More or less. So what you’re saying is that Zane now has me pigeonholed as a flake.”

  “Afraid so. But leave it with me, I’ll talk to him.”

  “No!” Rachel said, alarmed. “I don’t want you to say anything. Apart from the fact I’d feel like I was fourteen years old again, I reckon it was a narrow escape. If he’s going to take on like this whenever he discovers a side of me which surprises him, then I’m best off without him.”

  Gabe put his arm around his sister. “Rach, you’re a wonderful woman and I’m sure Zane recognized that from the moment he first saw you. But you got him in a place that’s still hurting and vulnerable and you scared the devil out of him. That’s all. He’ll come round.”

  “I’m not sure I want him to,” she said, pouting once more, ever such a little.

  “I reckon you do, otherwise you wouldn’t be here plying me with wine and getting me to talk about him.”

  “True.” She grinned. “So tell me about him.”

  Gabe winced. “Are you sure you want me to?”

  “Yes. Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “There’s something else, Rach, that I didn’t mention. I was going to but then I heard how good you two were getting on, and I changed my mind.”

  “About what?”

  “About telling you.”

  “Gabe! What were you worried about telling me?”

  He placed his glass of wine deliberately on the table and looked at her with a seriousness he usually reserved for his patients. Rachel’s heart plummeted.

  “Tell me, Gabe.”

  “I know you hate talking about what happened to you when you were sixteen. I realize I’m probably the only one of us who knew. We were too close for me not to know, even though you were swept off to Wellington for a ‘holiday’. A six-month holiday. A holiday from which you returned, a changed girl.” He paused. “The father of your child… Tommy Tau?”

  Rachel licked her lips and nodded.

  “He’s Zane’s half-brother.”

  5

  Rach
el twisted the old-fashioned cord around her finger as she leaned back against the kitchen wall. “Surely it’s not too late to re-arrange things?” She glanced at the boxes of equipment which stood ready to be unpacked. “There’s only two…” She peered at the pile of boxes stacked on the veranda. “Or three boxes…or more,” she murmured as an afterthought.

  She pulled the phone away from her ear. Her assistant wasn’t impressed with her last minute attempt to change locations for her final shoots back to Wellington. Suddenly, filming at Belendroit had lost its appeal. She wanted nothing more but to get away. At least in Wellington, people didn’t have a go at her for being good at her job. But it seems it was too late.

  “Okay, okay. We’ll carry on as arranged.”

  She winced as she was forced to listen to another tirade from her harassed assistant before replacing the old bakelite phone on the hook with a light ding.

  She could do it, she said sternly to herself as she opened the box and pulled out some pans. It wasn’t as if Zane was going to willingly cross her path after the fundraiser debacle. She simply had to stay out of his way. Because there was no way she wanted to get together with a man who not only thought she was some kind of superficial show girl but would despise her for giving up her child, and not just any child, but his own brother’s. Something, she knew, of which the family-oriented Zane would most definitely not approve.

  No wonder she’d thought she recognized Zane when she’d first seen him. He and her first boyfriend might have different mothers, different surnames, courtesy of Zane’s beloved step-father, but they had the same birth father. Like it or not, Zane was her daughter’s uncle.

  Her daughter… a girl, she had to admit, who he must know, even if he didn’t know Rachel was her mother. She leaned against the kitchen bench, gripping the cool surface for strength.

  But maybe he’d understand. After all she’d been so young and had only done what she’d thought right, what would be best for her daughter. But even as she thought these things, she had an image of Zane at the marae, caring for all the youngsters and old alike. And she realized that the decision she’d made would be totally alien to him. He’d understand why she’d done it, but he wouldn’t approve, and she doubted he’d forgive.