Just Once More (Escape to New Zealand Book 7)

by Rosalind James

  “Well, you and I know it’s not really that way, is it?” he continued after a moment. “Even when they’re showing something good, that you’re meant to want. It’s not life. It’s one night of…performing for the camera. And how often are they not showing something good? Most of the time, seems to me. How often is it some sad Hollywood story about some poor couple breaking up? And you know the story behind it’s uglier even than what you’ll hear. Broken hearts all over the shop. Not one bit glamorous. Nothing anybody’d want.”

  “Like Josie’s cover,” Hannah remembered. “‘Our Josie—Happy at Last.’ People like to hear about stars, but sometimes I think they like to hear most that stardom doesn’t make you happy. So they can feel better about their own lives. They should have got a picture of you carrying Jack out. That’d do it.”

  He laughed. “Proud parental moment, eh. Bet somebody did get a snap of that. But you know, glamour’s never what I wanted. I wanted…”

  “What?” she asked, trying to show him how much she wanted to hear.

  “My grandfather died when I was twenty-three,” he said unexpectedly. “After a couple years of my granny nursing him. Cancer. They were married forty-nine years, I ever tell you that?”

  “No,” she said. “I don’t think so.”

  “Yeh. I was young, like I said, just starting to do really well with the footy.”

  “Starting?”

  “Well, yeh. Starting. Wasn’t the skipper yet.”

  “Oh,” she said. “I see. An All Black, but not the captain. Not yet. Just starting. Got it.”

  “Anyway,” he said. “I was all caught up in that. Came back home when we knew it’d be soon, sitting there by his bed with the others. He died at home, right there with her beside him in her chair. Him looking at her like nobody else was there.”

  Drew wasn’t looking at Hannah now himself, though. His gaze was off in the distance, back to the past. “He looked at her,” he said again, “there at the end. Said, ‘Hate to leave you alone, Madam. But I’ll see you again. No rush. I’ll wait. You take your time.’”

  “Madam?” she asked through the lump in her throat that had formed at his words. At the heart that had been able to take them in at twenty-three, had held them all this time. Had known how much they mattered.

  Drew smiled, remembering. “He always called her that. Funny, eh. I asked him once. He wasn’t any kind of flash. A farmer, and she was a farmer’s wife. So it seemed…funny. He told me, though. Didn’t seem to mind telling me, and he wasn’t soft, either. Not a bit. He said it was to remind himself that he was lucky, and to remind her that she was special, when either of them forgot. He’d started out with it as a bit of a joke, when they were starting out, but then…it fit, he said. It fit.”

  “That’s a nice story,” she said quietly.

  He shook his head. “Mum and Dad thought afterwards that now she could have a bit of a rest, maybe even…enjoy herself a little. Once she didn’t have to take care of him, you know. Spend some time with her friends. But she didn’t even last a year. Heart packed up, the doctor said, and I reckon that’s right, but not the way he thought. She didn’t complain, always cheerful enough. But I reckon she just didn’t want to be in the world without him. Not after all that time. Felt like half of her was missing, she told me once. In a…moment we had.”

  He looked at her again. “And you know what I thought, when she said that?”

  “No,” she said, her mouth a little dry, her own heart beating a little hard. “What?”

  “I thought, that’s what I want. Not then, of course,” he said with a little laugh. “I wasn’t that noble. But someday. I knew that was what I wanted someday. I thought, I want a girl I feel that lucky to have. I want a woman I’ll want to call Madam when we’re seventy, because I’ll still feel lucky to have her. Not because she’s flash. Not because she’s beautiful. But because she’s real. Because she’s mine.”

  “In her crumpled sundress, nine months pregnant and grouchy,” Hannah said, the tears that were never too far from the surface at war with her smile.

  “Yeh,” he said. “That woman. That’s the one I want. The one in the crumpled sundress. Nine months pregnant and doing her best.”

  He leaned over, kissed her gently once more. “And for the record?” he told her, stroking a hand over her hair. “She’s still beautiful.”

  She came downstairs at last. A bit late, but Drew had urged her not to hurry.

  She could see through the open ranch sliders from the dining room that Koti, Liam, and Hemi were already out there, washing down tables and chairs on the grass with Jack and Gracie’s questionable help while Drew started the barbecue and his mum and Kristen relaxed in chairs on the patio.

  Our kids, she reminded herself, resisting the urge to check on them, to ask Helen about their tea, to worry about them. Drew was out there. Helen was out there. Hannah didn’t need to be out there. Not tonight.

  Reka and Kate were busy in the kitchen as well, Reka making room in the fridge for the container of marinated chicken pieces, the plate of mince already pressed into burgers, while Kate hauled vegies out of a bag.

  “Jenna’s coming soon,” Reka informed Hannah. “She was over at my place earlier, helping me fix all this, making the sweets as well. She and Finn are just getting Harry settled at Nic’s parents’. He’s spending the night with Zack. Sleepover. We’ve got the other two at our place with Mum.”

  “And Maia,” Kate said. “Your mum’s a saint, Reka.”

  Reka laughed. “Nah. You know better than that. A Maori mum with the mokopuna? She’ll be enjoying it. And she’s got those two little madams to help her. Nothing Ariana and Sophie love more than being told they’re in charge.”

  “That’s true,” Hannah said. “Oldest-child syndrome. I was a bit that way myself. Kristen would tell you so, I’m sure. But what can I do?” She saw the chilly bins out on the patio. Drew had put his ice to good use already, it seemed. Everything seemed pretty well under control, in fact.

  “Sit,” Reka said. “Keep us company.”

  “I could slice vegetables,” Hannah said.

  “Or you could sit,” Reka said. “You’re contributing your house, and that’s the only thing in the world that you and Kristen need to do tonight. That and chat, of course. Once you’re past eight months, you get a pass.” She pulled out a chair and all but pushed Hannah into it.

  “I seem to recall you making me dinner once or twice when you were about eight months along yourself,” Hannah said.

  “Because I wanted to. And as soon as I didn’t want to and my mum was there, I relaxed, so I’d have a bit of energy left once the baby showed up.”

  “You tell her, Reka,” Kate said, pulling out the cutting board, because of course she knew where it was, as many times as she’d visited over the couple years since Hannah and Drew had moved to Tauranga. “Besides, this is my one and only job. I know you’re better than me at everything, Hannah, but just for tonight, could we pretend it isn’t true and let me help? I was going to do more, but Reka said she and Jenna would do it, and I should just wait for them to give me jobs.” She sighed. “Probably best. I’m a much better accountant than I am a cook. Koti’s definitely gotten better, but I still lag horribly. I hate to admit that he made our contribution tonight.”

  She was left with nothing to do but answer the door, and do some chatting. An hour later, the kids had been taken off for their own tea and bedtime by Sam and Helen, and Hannah and Drew were sitting with seven couples around those cleaned tables. The sun was still strong in the warm summer evening, making her grateful for the vine-covered pergola shading the patio of irregular, cream-colored flagstones.

  It was all serenity here, the expanse of grass beyond the warm stones mowed just that morning by Sam, the border beyond made up of native plantings, flax and fern, palms both tall and short. No view of the sea back here, of course, but the privacy Drew needed. The place where he could relax, because anyone who got this far was a friend. />
  Just like everybody who was sitting around the tables tonight. Everyone had come except Josie and Hugh, because they were having dinner with Josie’s family. Only two nights to go until the wedding, and Hannah thought she knew how Josie was feeling. A husband, and two kids as well. A lot to take on. But it seemed like the two kids were a bonus, and Hannah was glad of that for all their sakes.

  Koti was talking to her, and she brought her thoughts back to the present.

  “Potato salad,” he said proudly, holding the heavy glass bowl for Hannah so she could help herself. “This is mine. You need to have some, because it’s what Americans eat at a barbecue. Kate’s mum taught me to make it when we were over there visiting with the baby last year. I just about fell asleep during the baseball game her dad took me to, and I can’t make a cherry pie like George Washington, but I can do this, and corn on the cob on the barbie. I can eat watermelon and spit the seeds, too. Even sang along with the national anthem. Reckon that makes me a Yank, or at least half of one, just like Maia.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Kate said. “You blended right in. Must have been the tattoo. Didn’t stand out at all. None of my old friends was scooting her chair a little closer just to get a better look and hear your cute accent, for instance. And by the way, George Washington chopped down the cherry tree, he didn’t make a cherry pie.”

  He just grinned. “Knew it was something to do with cherries. Though why that’d be something heroic to celebrate, I’m buggered if I know.”

  "I’ll tell you the fascinating story later,” Kate promised. “So you can pass it along to your child someday. As the half-Yank you are.”

  “Not a true story, actually,” Jenna said, laughing. “So Koti could skip it, if he likes.”

  “No, really?” Koti said. “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “It was in a book for children,” Jenna explained, “around the turn of the nineteenth century. A biography, but mostly made up, I’m afraid, and it ended up as one of those things that got passed down ever since. I guess the intention was a good one. That particular story is about not lying.”

  “It isn’t true?” Emma asked. “I never knew that.”

  “Jenna knows many things,” Finn said. “If it’s about teaching and kids, she knows it.”

  “Are you planning to go back to teaching soon, Jenna?” Hannah asked.

  “No,” she said, still smiling. “Not for a while yet.”

  “About five or six years plus two months of a while,” Finn put in, putting a proprietary hand on the significant bulge of her abdomen. “Minimum, because I take a fair bit of looking after. And oh, yeh. Four kids. That.”

  “Four,” Hannah said with a sigh. “I’ll admit, I’m a bit worried about three.”

  “Ah. Perfect opening,” Drew said. “What kind of help d’you have with that, Jenna?”

  “Plenty of house cleaning,” she said. “And a fair bit of minding the kids as well, when I need it. Because you can’t take three with you to the doctor, and four…” She shuddered. “I hate to imagine. And even though Finn isn’t gone as much now, he’s gone enough.”

  “Don’t need to justify that to me,” Reka said. “That’s why my mum lives with us, isn’t it. And why Josie’s auntie and uncle have moved into her old place, for that matter. To look after the kids when he’s gone and she’s working.”

  “And you don’t ever feel…” Hannah asked hesitantly. She wasn’t sure how to ask this without insulting Reka or Jenna.

  Reka looked around the table. “Who here’s got some help at home? Family, or somebody else? Everybody, that’s who,” she told Hannah. “Everybody with kids. I know what you’re saying. And no. I don’t. I’m a good mum.”

  “I know you are,” Hannah hastened to say. She could feel herself flushing. “I wasn’t meaning it was bad to have help. Not for anybody here. I have help myself. How could I say that?” She tried to think of what she could add. How many times did that make it that she’d messed up today?

  “Just not enough help,” Drew said, clearly not aware that any fence needed mending. “Not enough at all, with what you have to cope with just now. And not if you want to get back into the work, especially.”

  “That’s true,” Emma told her earnestly. “There’s no way I could work for 2nd Hemisphere without it. You of all people know that, Hannah, even the half-time I do it. And I want to work. I know I could have taken this whole year off, since George, but I didn’t want to. I finally got the chance to do something I love doing, and I want to do it.”

  “Me too,” Kate said. “That’s why we’ve got a nanny ourselves, so I can. Why we haven’t started that second baby yet, too, tell you the truth. Nothing to do with Koti’s, um…”

  “Aw, nice,” he groaned as everyone started to laugh. “Koti’s um? Koti’s what? Impotence? Low sperm count?”

  “Well, you know,” she flashed back. “In case they were wondering. I’m just saying it’s me, not you.”

  “Trust me,” he said, scowling around the table. “Nobody’s wondering.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Nic said. “I know I am. Do tell, Kate.”

  “Hannah wants to keep up with her own job as well,” Drew cut in, his authority, as always, carrying the day. “As much as she can. That’s why we’re having the conversation. Not to hear about Koti’s um.”

  “See, Kate,” Koti said. “That’s why we’re having the conversation. Not for you to cast doubts on my virility.”

  She sighed. “And men say women are oversensitive. Koti is exceedingly virile,” she told the table. “Frighteningly virile. Enormously virile. How’s that? Are we all good?”

  “Personally, I’m more than good,” Nic said. “In fact, I’m repulsed, and more than ready to move on. Suppose Hannah tells us about her work plans, distracts us until we can go home and scrub our brains of some truly disgusting images that I could have gone my entire life without entertaining.”

  Hannah was laughing. “All Drew’s fault. He’s the one who brought it up. But all right. I’ll do my bit on the distraction, because really, Kate. Eww. I do want to keep working, at least some, as soon as I can again. I don’t want to let it all go. I want to be more than the…spokesmodel, or whatever, for my lines.”

  “Spokesmodel?” Reka asked. “You? I’d say that was us, wouldn’t you? Although now that you’ve got Kristen over here, maybe you can put the rest of us out to pasture. Don’t know how she escaped that last shoot for the maternity wear, but surely you can have her holding the new baby in the next one, wearing that nursing top or whatever, making every woman watching feel like she’d better get busy with those press-ups and that ab work.”

  “No, thanks,” Kristen said. She was always quiet in the group, a little shy, but now she spoke up. “I don’t model anymore. Hannah knows that.”

  “Then you’re the only one here who can say no to Hannah,” Reka said. “Not when she gets that sweet little face and begs you. Drew can’t, I know that. And I’d have said Drew could do anything.”

  “Not that,” Drew agreed with a grin, leaning back with one big elbow on the back of Hannah’s chair, his thumb stroking over the back of her neck again. “Resist her sweet face? Nah. Can’t do that, and she knows it.”

  “Nobody here has to model if they don’t want to,” Hannah assured Reka, then had to give Drew a somewhat misty smile. If he’d got up today with a plan to make her feel precious to him, he couldn’t have done a much better job. Telling everybody that? That wasn’t like him. “Or if they don’t want their kids to. Nobody has to do that either. It’s only if it’s fun. You know that.”

  “Aw, love,” Reka said, “you know we all do know it. Just teasing. Hannah’s in fashion, just like Kristen,” she explained to Ally, and Hannah should have done that, should have made sure Ally felt included. She wasn’t doing well enough at the hostess duties tonight, that was for sure. Good thing Reka was more than capable of taking them on.

  “Ally knows,” Hannah said, with a belated smile in Ally’s direction
. “She was Kristen’s roommate when they moved here, remember? So we got the chance to get to know her. And this time, we get Nate here too. Another bonus.”

  Which might have been laying it on a bit thick, but she didn’t want anyone to think that she was jealous of Nate’s encroachment on Drew’s stature. Even though, all right, maybe she was. It had been so hard on Drew to hang up his boots, and if Hannah were forced to tell the truth, it had been hard on her too. And the thought that somebody else could be the captain of the All Blacks…yes, it was definitely still hard.

  The first time she and Drew had watched the team run out of the tunnel before the match behind Nate—she hadn’t needed to look at Drew to know what a wrench it was. Not that he’d said anything, but the very immobility of his face told the story. The aching desire to be out there at the head of his men, leading them into battle once more. If it could have been done by strength of mind and force of will, he’d have been there that night, and every game since. But a loose forward’s body took a battering in rugby, especially one with a workrate like Drew’s.

  The decision had been his. “If I’m not the best choice for the team,” he’d told her before he’d made his announcement, “it’s time to take myself out. I’m still the best choice. But barely, and I won’t be much longer. I’m not taking that slide.”

  It had been time. But that didn’t make it easy. Then. Still.

  “Yes,” Ally said, and Hannah wrenched herself back once again. “You and Drew have always been great about inviting me. And I haven’t forgotten that you introduced me to Nate in the first place. I wasn’t sure that was such a wonderful idea for a while there, but my opinion of him’s picked up considerably since then. But sorry,” she said, and she was laughing herself, “I’m all distracted.”

  “Nah, don’t apologize,” Nate said. “I’m loving thinking that I’ve got you distracted. You just keep thinking about me.”

  “A little rude, though,” Ally said. “Sorry. Hannah’s work. Ahem. No, I hardly know anything about that. Because Kiwis never talk about their work during social time, I found that out pretty fast, and you’ve obviously picked right up on that, Hannah.”