by Diana Fraser
He’d been intensely attracted to Rachel from the first moment he’d seen her. He’d liked her from their first conversation. And he’d seen a future with her from their first date. But he hadn’t stopped to examine his feelings, hadn’t thought about untrustworthy words like ‘love’. He’d heard enough about love when he’d been a high-profile rugby player. Everyone, including his girlfriend, had told him they’d loved him. But it had come to nothing, and had taught him not to trust words.
But Rachel’s pain had forced him to look deep inside, at his feelings, and at his rigid views. And he’d emerged a different man. He still might not trust words, but he’d show Rachel that she could trust his actions. Starting that morning. He looked once more at the gray light which had been split into every color under the sun, and knew it was the right decision.
The remains of the mist were evaporating into thready trails above the harbor as Rachel returned from her early morning walk. She’d spent the last few days organizing a series of meetings the following week in the States. Her agent said the only unknowns were how many series they wanted, rather than whether they wanted them at all. Rachel couldn’t help thinking it would be nice to go somewhere where she was wanted for a change.
She walked up the steps to the veranda—empty at that hour, her father was getting up later now, as he grew older—and her phone beeped. She pulled it out of her back pocket and squinted at the screen as the sun broke through the cloud and obscured it. She retreated into a corner, under the overhanging leaves of the wisteria which was wet with dew, and stared at the screen. An email message from Zane.
She opened it and quickly scanned it. Then she sat, oblivious to the dewy seat, and re-read the message, the full force of its meaning slowly forming. He’d invited her to tea at the café. Amber’s café. But not by himself. He was bringing three kids with him. A treat for them, he’d explained, to mark the end of term. He’d included their names but there had been only one name which struck her. Etta. What the hell?
She double-checked her other messages and texts to see if there was some kind of earlier message which would explain things. But there was nothing.
She wandered inside as if in a dream, her mind darting from one idea to the other, discarding them as quickly as they came. But all her thoughts kept returning to the first thought she had. It could only mean one thing—a chance. Maybe Zane was giving her a chance to connect with her child.
But still, there was little warmth in the email, a simple invitation to meet at the café, no apologies, no words of understanding or regret. Only an invitation to meet in a few days’ time. Friday. A day of the year which held special significance to her.
She squashed the small glimmer of hope before it had a chance to burn brightly. Gabe may have told Zane that she’d booked her flights—first to Wellington and then on to the States—and she was leaving Akaroa after the weekend. Most likely this was a small olive branch, a way to say goodbye. Safety in numbers. A glimpse at what might have been.
She couldn’t allow herself to read anything more into it, she reminded herself as she read through the cool words. Nothing.
She typed a reply, deleted it and retyped it several times, before deciding on a brief, impersonal acceptance.
Her phone went and she answered it as she walked through the house to her bedroom which was piled with boxes. She sat amongst them as she listened to her agent talk her through her exciting new future—a future which held little allure for Rachel, only a kind of bleak inevitability.
Friday afternoon seemed to take forever to arrive. Rachel had been dreading, and eagerly anticipating it, in equal measure. She’d filled her week catching up with her family and working on her proposals for her new shows. And, while she worked on her laptop in the kitchen/family room, she’d look up from time to time at the kitchen which still contained some of the remnants of the earlier filming. And she remembered how happy she’d been and how right her new ideas had felt about filming at Belendroit. The new US proposals were similar, but would be filmed in a studio, made to look like Belendroit’s kitchen—that, her agent had insisted on. Rachel had never felt so far away from reality as now—recreating her reality in a false environment. She couldn’t help thinking of Zane wanting a real life, and finding it here, in Akaroa. The option she’d chosen emphasized how false her world was. The contrast couldn’t have been more poignant, or pointed.
And now it was Friday and all she could think about was what to wear.
Her father looked at her over his reading glasses. “That’s the third change of outfits in half an hour. What’s going on, Rachel? Finding it hard to decide what to wear to see your sister?”
She threw him an irritated look. “It’s this change in weather. One minute it’s hot, the next cool.”
“It’s called autumn.”
“It’s called annoying.”
He shook his head. “Whatever the weather, that outfit”—he stabbed his finger at Rachel’s conservative dark gray dress which fitted like a glove but had all the allure of a nun’s habit—“will be like a dark cloud has moved in and obscured the sun. What about that pretty frock you wore ten minutes ago.”
“It’s too young.”
“You are young.”
“Not that young.”
“In that outfit you look like some school child’s version of what an old-fashioned mother looks like. Even your grandmother didn’t look like that!” He rose stiffly from his chair and dropped the newspaper on the table. He walked over to Rachel and cupped her face. “Whatever it is you’re up to, be yourself, for goodness sake. Because you are a wonderful girl and you need to show people the real you.”
She huffed. “The real me! Is there any such thing?”
“Somewhere beneath that drab dress, yes, there is.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Now, you go and get ready to see… Amber, was it?” He grinned but didn’t wait for an answer. “While I get ready for my rehearsal at the theatre.”
As Rachel changed once more, she pondered on her father’s words. He was right. Of course he was right. And for once he didn’t push things. He knew something was up but, for whatever reason, he wasn’t going to get involved. She looked at herself in the mirror. Well, only insofar as he wanted to make sure she didn’t look dowdy; he wanted her to look herself. She looked up into her eyes and smiled. And, of course, he was right. If there was ever a time to reveal her true self, it was now.
Rachel regretted arriving early. It increased the nerves she’d been battling all week. The café was busy and every time she caught someone’s eye she felt heat flare in her cheeks, as if she’d been caught out. Over the years she’d become accustomed to her fame, and was generally able to ignore it unless people accosted her directly. But here, now, she felt like she’d been caught out doing something she shouldn’t have been doing. Or maybe, something she didn’t deserve. Or, even more likely, it was because she sat alone, under festoons of ribbons, draping from a central point clustered with balloons above the table, so it was like she was contained in a teepee made of ribbons.
And then there was the table—beautifully laid by Amber—complete with an old-fashioned tiered cake platter, crammed with the yummiest cream confections, tiny, rich chocolate cakes and rose pink-iced fairy cakes, as well as antique, gold-rimmed plates piled with delicate sandwiches. It was fit for a party—a girl’s birthday party.
Rachel knew what the date was. It was a date that she’d marked—celebrated wasn’t the right word—every year for the past ten years. Zane was including Rachel in Etta’s birthday celebrations. But whether Etta was aware of Rachel’s identity, she didn’t know.
Rachel folded her arms and then unfolded them, clasping her clammy hands in her lap as she peered out the window. Then her heart stopped. Three children were running across the road ahead of Zane. He shouted at them but only two of them slowed to a walk. Etta arrived first at the door which tinkled the old-fashioned bell. She glanced at her uncle, obviously expecting a reprimand, but Zane simply shook his head and
she ran up to the counter.
Instinctively Rachel rose in her seat and watched her daughter. But Etta didn’t come to her. “Amber!” shouted Etta, as she ran over to Amber and gave her a hug.
Rachel looked away, absurdly hurt. She had no idea that Amber and Etta knew each other. And not only knew each other, but obviously really liked each other. But it wasn’t only about her. Rachel felt a stab of regret for Amber, too. Amber had been too young to know of Rachel’s pregnancy and, as far as Rachel knew, was still unaware of it and Rachel’s relationship to Etta. And there she was, being affectionate with a girl who was her niece and she had no clue.
Guilt consumed Rachel as she suddenly realized how the decision taken ten years before had affected more than herself and her child. She’d robbed Amber of a niece.
When she tore her gaze from Etta and Amber she saw that Zane was watching her carefully. He’d also dressed up for the occasion in smart trousers and a white shirt. Rachel briefly wondered if Zane ever looked anything but impressive. But she knew he didn’t. He wore his clothes, rather than the other way around, because he was comfortable with who he was and had no need to impress. And of course, for that very reason, he did impress.
He came over to her, hesitated briefly, and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s good to see you.”
She forced an uncomfortable smile. “And you.”
He frowned. “Are you sure?”
She bit her lip and glanced over at Etta and her two friends. “Of course.” She smiled again, but suspected it was no less convincing. “And thank you.” She glanced at Etta. “For the invitation.”
“You’re welcome.”
“It… couldn’t have been easy.”
“No, not easy, but then doing the right thing rarely is.”
She frowned. “The right thing?” She wanted him to elaborate, to ask him what he really meant, but she couldn’t find the words.
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Rachel. Etta is none the wiser. It’s for you, before you go.”
“Of course I want to.” Her words tumbled out. “There’s nothing else I want. Especially today of all days.”
“Okay. But she doesn’t know and I don’t want her to. You do understand that?”
“Yes, of course. And, thank you, I really appreciate it. After everything that’s happened, I didn’t think I’d get to spend any time with her. You’re bending your rules, I think.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know about bending. Ignoring them, more like.”
“Uncle Zane!” Etta shouted and they both turned to her, Zane’s words and their meaning swirling unformed in Rachel’s head. Before she could ask him more, the children had descended on them, bringing Amber with them.
Etta and her friends squeezed up along the bench. Etta sat opposite Zane, while Rachel sat by the window, opposite the two boys. They all listened to Amber’s imaginative description of the menu. Amber had a gift for creating worlds—with her art and her words—and it was a gift which Rachel had never thought much of until now, as she watched the looks of wonder on the children’s faces. Amber’s blue eyes were wide, lost in the world of words she was creating. Something to do with Alice Through the Looking Glass and a feast to rival the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party.
“Can we choose anything?” asked Etta.
“Yes, whatever you like,” replied Zane. “It’s your birthday, after all.”
“As well as cake, there’s pizza, chips, the usual,” said Amber. “Zane? Hot chocolate for you?” she asked with a grin.
Etta laughed. “He hates that stuff.”
“I’m being ganged up against. Just water, thanks Amber.”
With virtually everything on the menu ordered, the two boys kept up a continual stream of banter, with Etta, initially shy, chipping in and glancing often and suspiciously at Rachel. Slowly she loosened up and began to join in the boys’ conversation, leaving Zane and Rachel to talk politely about Rachel’s forthcoming trip. But it couldn’t be sustained and, after Etta relaxed, Rachel sat back and observed her while making sure to give equal attention to the boys, so as not to arouse suspicion.
It wasn’t until the end of the meal, when Zane had excused himself to settle up the bill, that Etta suddenly looked up at Rachel. “Are you going out with Zane?”
“No. I mean I was. But—”
“But not now? How could you leave him? All my aunties say he’s crazy in love with you.”
Rachel widened her eyes in surprise. “Well… I think your aunties might have misunderstood.”
“My aunties know everything, about everything.”
“I’m sure they do. But, um, in this case, I’m not so sure.” She groped for something to say which could change the subject. “Anyhow, I have to leave for the States on Monday.”
“Why?”
“Because…” Rachel shrugged. “I have work to do.”
“People work here. Why can’t you?”
Rachel softened and leaned forward, toward Etta. “Would you like me to?”
“I don’t care. But Zane does.” With no idea that she had just stabbed Rachel in the heart, Etta jumped up, closely followed by the others and they walked out of the café, shouting their goodbyes to Amber as they went. She watched them cross the street and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Then Etta glanced at her through the window and gave her a hesitant wave before running off into the park. Etta wouldn’t have seen Rachel’s answering wave, nor the tears that followed. But, when she turned back to the café, Zane did.
He sat down and put an arm around her, not caring what gossip it might ignite. “Rachel, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought you’d want this.”
She fumbled in her bag for a tissue and blotted away the mascara from under the eyes. “I did want this. It was wonderful—one of the best moments of my life.”
“Well, I’m not sure that it qualifies for that!” he said, trying to joke. “It doesn’t say much for the rest of your life.” His face dropped as she started to cry again. He stroked her hair. “Rachel! I’m sorry. I always say the wrong things. I only want to cheer you up. Not make you sad.”
She sniffed and took a deep breath. “Today was wonderful but it’s made me see what I haven’t seen all along. It’s too late to be a part of her life, isn’t it?”
He hesitated and then nodded. “I think so. I don’t want her hurt.”
“Only me.”
His eyes flickered over her face and he shook his head. “No, of course not. I don’t want you hurt either.”
“But that was done a long time ago, I guess. And I did it all by myself.” She rose to leave. “Thank you again, Zane. I’ll treasure this memory.”
She walked away quickly, not wanting him to see her cry again.
Zane swept up the remaining assignments on his desk and into his bag and took a last look around the classroom before switching off the lights. He was about to exit the room when a movement outside the window caught his eye. He walked over and looked out. Etta was standing with her hands on her hips as a boy writhed on the ground in front of her holding his nose while another boy backed away. Zane flung open the window. “Etta!” The boys looked around but she didn’t. “I want to see you, now!”
Still she didn’t turn around but she’d heard him. He could tell by the jut of her jaw as she walked to the school room. He frowned. She’d always been fiery, but she didn’t usually initiate fights.
He went to the kitchen and grabbed an icepack from the freezer and went over to the group. The boy was now standing, blood running from his nose. He told the boy what to do, and placed the bag over the bridge of his nose. “Not broken.” He glared at Etta. “You. Inside. We need to talk.”
Etta’s fierce eyes still flashed angry darts at the boy, and at Zane, but she walked with her head held high into the classroom.
When Zane returned to the classroom, he found Etta beside the open door, arms folded, leaning against the wall, with a mutinous look on her face.
&n
bsp; He closed the door gently. He knew, deep down, that whatever Etta had done, she’d done for good reason. He needed to find out what that reason was, and try to make her see that lashing out wasn’t good. His brother’s daughter had a hot head, exactly like him. But he was going to make damn sure that it didn’t land Etta into the kind of trouble his brother had gotten himself into.
He rested against his desk and folded his arms, echoing her stance. “So what was that all about?”
She glowered at him with her beautiful dark eyes and looked down again, as if the scuffed floor was endlessly fascinating.
He dipped his head and caught her gaze as she flashed him a quick look. “Etta,” he said encouragingly. “You know you’re not going to leave here until you tell me what happened, so you might as well do us both a favor by telling me straight away.”
He watched her lowered gaze flicker from one scuffed point on the floor to another as she thought it through. She licked her lips. He was getting through to her.
“It was them, they started it.”
“How? What did they do?”
“They didn’t do anything.”
He sighed. Seemed like he was going to have exactly the right question to get any kind of answer. “Okay, what did they say?”
She shrugged.
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll ask them. I’ll find out one way or another, and I’d prefer to find out from you first.”
She screwed her lips up as if she’d eaten something sour. “Stupid Jake. I told him he was a liar.”
“Etta,” he warned.
She looked up sharply, eyes flashing. “He told me that that Rachel woman was my mom, and I told him he was a liar!”
He blinked at the hurt she’d felt, feeling it right along with her. He had to tell her something that he’d wanted to shelter her from. For the first time he wondered if he’d been wrong. Seemed word had gotten out—so much for confidential board papers, so much for his grandmother’s ability to keep a secret—and had made things worse… much worse.