by Diana Fraser
“I guess, but…”
“But what?”
“Can’t you make sure she stays?”
“And how do you expect me to do that?”
“Marry her.”
He nearly choked. “What?”
“Ask her to marry you. Then she’d stay.”
“I can’t… She wouldn’t…”
“You don’t know unless you ask and I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
“What way?”
“You know, Zane. Like all the women do, except when Rachel looks at you like that, you look the same, right back. If I can see it, then Rachel would.”
“For real?” The shock of being given advice by his ten-year-old niece was making him sound like a teenager.
“Yeah. And it’s not only me. All my cousins reckon you’re made for each other. But that you’d probably have to grovel lots because that’s what men have to do when they’ve stuffed up as much as you have.”
Zane was about to object but closed his mouth instead, knowing Etta was probably right.
“And then there was that stunt you pulled with the photos,” added Etta. Zane briefly wondered if all women had this unerring knowledge about how to rub salt into a wound.
“It wasn’t a stunt! I—” He suddenly wondered how on earth it was public knowledge. “They know about that?”
“Yeah. Course they do. My cuzzies know everything!” She laughed and went running off.
He was left standing there, wondering how everybody knew everything about his life, knew what he should do, except him. He shook his head and walked across the muddy field to the club rooms, following in Etta’s footsteps, suddenly realizing that she could teach him as much as he could teach her.
By the time he reached the club rooms, and the noise of the teams and their families, the heat, steam from the showers mingling with the smell of the food from the kitchen, he knew exactly what he had to do.
It was a long drive out to the end of the road where only penguins and seabirds lived. But, as Rachel parked the car on the gravel side of the road, she immediately saw she wasn’t the first to arrive. Zane’s car was parked around the bend.
Rachel felt the same flutter of nerves and excitement she’d felt when she’d received Zane’s text, asking her to meet with him. She’d refused the first time, citing a prior engagement. But Zane had persisted and she’d finally agreed to come to this remote spot, as much out of curiosity as anything else.
She stepped out the car, the wind whipping her hair around her face, obscuring her vision, as she pushed the door shut. By the time she’d twisted her hair out the way, Zane had gotten out his car and was looking her way. He stood, hands in his suit trouser pockets, staring at her. It was windier here, where the other side of the harbor was farther away and the open sea was visible. She clamped her hand down to hold her hair as she walked toward him, her thin sandals feeling out the rougher stones on the road where so few cars came.
She stopped a few steps in front of him. “Zane.” She cleared her throat and gestured with her hands. “Well, I’m here.” She smiled to cover the million and one things which were passing through her head. Had she done something wrong? Had she somehow stuffed up the fledgling relationship she’d begun with Etta? That magical night on the beach, when Etta had shown to Rachel that she now accepted her as her mother, had only been a month ago, but Rachel had seen Etta regularly and she’d thought things were going well. What if she were wrong?
He smiled briefly. “You are. Thanks for coming.” Rachel noted the tension in his face. Something was worrying him. Her nerves ratcheted up a notch.
“Is Etta okay?”
“Etta?” He frowned. “Of course. She’s never been better.”
Relief flooded her. She exhaled a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.
“Why?”
Rachel shrugged. “The sudden text, the strange place to meet, I wondered if I’d…”
“If you’d what?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Done something wrong? Rachel, you’ve done everything right. Etta’s changed. She’s still the same stroppy headstrong girl, but she’s not risking everything to show off, to win anymore. She seems… more content, happier in herself. And that’s down to you.”
“Me… and the counselor. She’s done a great job.”
“You both have.”
She shrugged, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “Are we meeting somebody here?”
“No.” He didn’t elaborate, simply continued to gaze at her with an unreadable expression. “Want to walk?”
“Yes, I guess.” She fell into step with him. “So… why the cloak and dagger stuff?” She tried to smile but her mouth tugged jerkily at the corners. “Zane, tell me, what’s going on? What the hell is all this about?”
“I wanted to talk.”
“Talk? We can talk in the café. We can talk anywhere. Why bring me all the way out here?”
“Because I wanted to show you something.”
She shrugged and opened her arms. “Then show me, and then I can go.”
“That’s just it.” He paused and in that silence a thousand things ran through her brain. “I know the US TV company still want you over there, and I know it’s an incredible opportunity for you, but… I don’t want you to go.”
He hadn’t moved toward her. His expression was still unsmiling, but his words were telling her something else. The whole package didn’t compute.
“It’s not for long.”
“How long?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. There will be some PR work to do in different locations.”
“When’s your return flight?”
“It hasn’t been booked.”
His expression went from unsmiling to grim in an instant. “You’re not coming back, are you?”
“Yes, I am. Of course I am. There’s Etta…”
“Sure. And you know that she’d love nothing better than to get a sporting scholarship to the States.”
“Yeah, I know. I thought maybe I could help there.”
“By being a resident?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t not say that.”
“Why are you so concerned anyway? It’s not like you’re going to miss me, surely? I mean, this must be the first time we’ve been alone together for months.”
“I didn’t…” He trailed off.
“What? You didn’t what?” It wasn’t until he turned to her, his eyes shadowed, that she understood. “Really?” she asked. “You didn’t think I’d want to be with you? Why?”
He shrugged. “Where to begin?”
“I guess we could begin with the photographs.”
“Hey, I’m sorry. You can check with your father, I asked him for permission.”
“Is that how you usually carry on business—asking women’s fathers for permission?”
“I’m sorry, Rachel. I’m truly sorry. But I really didn’t think you’d mind, given what I’d intended them to be used for.”
“Intended being the operative word.”
“It got out of hand. My nieces are hopeless with social media. I’m so sorry.”
Rachel had to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling. “Zane.” She reached out and touched him. “You can stop apologizing now. I understand.”
His relief was palpable. “You do? Thank God. Because, you know, Rachel, I’d never do anything to hurt you. I hate that you think I’m like the other men in your life. I—”
“I know you’re not. Not least because they’ve never said ‘sorry’ to me as many times as you… if ever.”
He exhaled roughly with relief. “Right. Good. So…”
She cocked her head to one side to catch his gaze. “So?”
“So… I wanted to say… about your one-way ticket.”
“Yes?”
“That I wish it were a two-way ticket.”
“Do you really think I still intend to leave here?”
His shrug told her t
hat that was exactly what he believed.
“You do!”
“Of course I do,” he said. He walked toward her then and she could see the struggle which was going on beneath the surface. “And I don’t want you to go.”
“You don’t?” They’d hardly spent any time alone together over the past few months. They were both so busy and then there was Etta. They both wanted to include her in their lives as much as possible. But it had allowed Rachel to doubt Zane’s feelings for her. And she wanted to know, now, finally. She took a deep breath. “And why’s that? Etta?”
“That’s one reason. But there are others.”
“I’m listening.”
“I owe you.”
“Owe me what?”
“Owe you for preventing you from finding Etta.”
“But you didn’t know it was me.”
“True. But I didn’t try to find out who it was, or anything behind the application. I passed judgement without knowing the full story. And I want to try to make that up to you.”
“You have already. By helping me and Etta reunite. I can’t believe how well we get on, compared to only a few short months ago.”
“But there’s more.” His hand reached out and wrapped around her arm, the pressure of his fingers searing through the fine cotton of her top. She closed her eyes. “Zane, let me go.”
“No. I can’t. Rachel, hear me out.” He walked around until he was facing her. “I haven’t finished my list of reasons you should stay.”
“I only needed that one. Etta.”
“I have some back up reasons—three in total.”
“You don’t need them.”
“I think I do. I think I need to tell you that I don’t want you to leave…me. I can’t imagine this place without you. I know we haven’t known each other long, Rachel, but I don’t want you to go. I want you to be with me, to work alongside me with Etta, to do it together. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
She shook her head. She daren’t understand.
“I’m saying that I love you. For the first time in my life I’m in love and I’ve been too stupid to see it. I don’t want you to go, because pure and simple, I want you at my side. Rachel?”
But she couldn’t speak and he pulled her against his chest where she rested her cheek and sighed.
“What’s the third?” she murmured.
“Third?” he asked, puzzled, as he pushed her hair from her face. “Third what?”
“Third reason you want me to stay. You said there were three.”
He huffed lightly and stepped away, his hand firmly clasping hers and gestured around the place. “It’s all of this. It’s this place, my home, your home. Look around. This is where you were raised, this is where I was raised. What better place for us to raise our children?”
“Children?” she repeated faintly.
“Our family’s children. Etta, my nieces and nephews, Gabe’s kids, Amber’s kids which no doubt she’ll have lots of. And… I hope one day, our own children. Rachel, please don’t go.”
She half-laughed, half-cried. “Let’s get this straight. You’re offering me a chance with my daughter I’ve been longing for my whole life, the chance to live close to the family I love, and a chance…” She faltered and took a deep breath and looked up at him. “To be with the man who won’t stay out of my mind.”
“I’m in your mind?”
“And everywhere else, too.”
“Everywhere?” he said, his features relaxing into a definitely satisfied macho expression. “Maybe we’d better leave this place and go somewhere where I can make sure I’m everywhere.”
“That, Zane Black, is a very suggestive comment. And also a very good one.”
He grinned as they walked back to their cars. “Trouble is, Rachel, your place or mine? Either place will be full of family.”
“Christchurch, then. A motel, I think. One night away.”
He stopped short. “Will you marry me, Rachel? As soon as possible?”
“What’s the urgency?”
“Because I love you—heart and soul—and I don’t ever want to be parted from you. And… I want more than one night in a motel. I want night after night with you, day after day, and I don’t want to be apart from my family, our people. Will you?”
“Yes, oh, yes, Zane!”
The world spun around them as they kissed. When they parted he withdrew something from his pocket.
“What’s this?” She laughed. “Don’t tell me you have a ring.”
He smiled and let it unravel. At the end of a strand of leather was a large greenstone pendant. “I want you to have this.”
“That’s your grandmother’s, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s one of our tribe’s taonga. That’s Maori for treasure,” he added.
Rachel took it, and caressed the smooth cool greenstone—pounamu, jade, whatever you called it, it was one of Maori’s treasures from their history and a part of their culture. “It’s beautiful.”
“It belonged to my grandmother, and I want you to have it. She wants you to have it.”
“I can’t! I mean it’s part of your family’s culture, your people. You can’t give it to me.”
“It’s a part of me. You have my treasure, you have my heart, they’re both yours, to do with what you wish. I just need to give them to you, the rest is up to you. I’ll never force you to do anything. It’s up to you, whether you leave or stay.”
“Zane! I’m not leaving! Well, only for a few weeks. And then I’ll be back. There’s no way I’m choosing any kind of career over what I have here. Besides…” She smiled. “I can have my cake and eat it… quite literally. My ticket might be open-ended because we’re not sure of what’s required when we get over there. But I will be back. We’re going to be filming here, not over there.”
“Here?”
“Yes, at Belendroit. It’s the perfect place. It’s home, after all.”
He kissed her then. Then he withdrew another package from his pocket, a velvet box inside of which was a diamond ring. “Will you take it? Will you be my wife?”
“Zane, I think I loved you the moment I set eyes on you. Definitely the second moment.” She grinned. “I will.” And they kissed, his arms enveloping her in an embrace as if he never wanted to let her go. And she never wanted to be let go.
13
Four weeks later…
It couldn’t be nerves, Rachel thought, as her father’s ancient Daimler turned into the church driveway and parked outside, beside the gardens where craft markets were held on Saturdays. No, far more likely to be the smell of petrol combined with leather that made her feel so queasy. She’d been worried it wouldn’t get them here, but hadn’t the heart to refuse her father’s offer of bringing her to the church in his beloved old car.
She ducked her head to look out the window at the nineteenth-century wooden church with its gray roof, white weatherboards, and peaked-roofed porch. Behind the church, native bush rose up the hill, making the church appear nestled and cozy, unchanged over the century and more it had been in existence.
She turned to look in the back seat where Etta was already fingering the door handle, waiting for Rachel to give the signal. “Are you okay?” asked Rachel.
“Yeah, sure.” Etta didn’t look in the least bit nervous, despite her initial unwillingness to be a bridesmaid—something that sounded far too girly for her. But after negotiations over the dress (no frills and not white) and over the hair (no flowers stuck in it), she was on board. Rachel let her gaze settle on her for a few seconds. Etta’s hair, for once, wasn’t pulled back into a ponytail, but fell in natural soft waves, framing her face and falling down her back. The unformed softness around Etta’s cheeks was already beginning to take the shape of a beautiful young woman. And Rachel knew, without a doubt, that when Etta became that woman, Rachel would still be a part of her life. Etta gave Rachel a quick impatient glance, followed by a swift smile. She was mercurial, a wild child who would only be tamed b
y her own fierce brand of love. “Ready, Mom?”
Rachel didn’t think she’d ever tire of hearing herself called ‘Mom’. “Ready.”
The organ music spilled out the porch of the old church and down the steps, across the grass to where they stepped out of her father’s ancient Daimler.
An usher waiting on the step, grinned at them, and indicated to someone inside that they’d arrived—suitably late, thanks to her father’s refusal to drive the Daimler at a reasonable speed, so he could wave and chat to passing locals.
“Ready?” Jim was beaming broadly as he offered his arm to her, not so much oblivious to the fact they were late, but relishing the dramatic entrance it would bring.
“More than.” She grinned back as she slipped her arm through his. Etta collected the flowing skirt of Rachel’s cream gown and held it high, as she’d been shown by her aunties who were waiting inside, and they walked into the church. The smell of polish and flowers and incense and old wood surrounded them, and filled Rachel with a sudden rush of nerves. “Dad!” she whispered.
“What is it, darling? Not nerves, surely?”
She swallowed and nodded, unable to utter a single word. It wasn’t butterflies in her stomach but a horde of rampaging elephants. Her hands were shaking around her bouquet—roses from Belendroit’s garden, in all shades of pink. She’d been on TV, presented shows to live audiences, many times, but she’d never done anything as nerve-racking as this.
“You have nothing to worry about. You have a man who adores you waiting inside, and”—he glanced behind at Etta, who stood tall in her floor length red satin dress—“and a daughter who will be there every step of the way, supporting you. You’ve nothing to worry about,” he repeated, his eyes filling with teary love. “And you look utterly beautiful,” Jim said, kissing her cheek. “Just like your mother. She’d have loved to have been here. To have seen you so happy. And with…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. They both blinked back the tears.
“Don’t get me going, Dad,” she said, sweeping her finger under her eyes.
“I’m sorry.” The church organ pounded out the chords of the Wedding March. “That’s our cue, my darling, let’s do this.”