Just Say [Hell] No

by Rosalind James

  “Not by myself, I didn’t,” her grandmother said.

  “All right,” Ella said. “But Mum did it by herself, or almost.”

  “She’s your model, then,” Mary said.

  Nyree brought the tea over and said, “I’ll go up and…” She tried to think of what. “Get ready,” she added lamely.

  “Nah,” Ella said. “Don’t go. I need to ask you. Don’t Maori have something like this? Like… you don’t give your kids away, not to strangers.”

  “No,” Nyree said, sitting down again. “Or yes. You mean whangai, when somebody else in the whanau takes the baby, so he can stay in his place, with his people. Because to Maori, the whanau is big, not just your mum and dad, and your… place matters, and you need to know your iwi. But you’re not Maori, and there’s nobody to take them, not that I know.” She thought a little more, then added, “Also—why does somebody take them, in a Maori whanau? Because the mum’s too young, or for some other reason. Maybe because she needs to finish school and then go to University, because she’s good at maths. And because it’s better for the boys to have more family around. Two parents, or a grandmother, grandfather, aunties and uncles and cousins, there to help. But parents. That’s the most important. People who want that baby. Or those babies.”

  “But I do have some of that,” Ella said. “Here, I mean. I thought this would be easier. An easier choice. I thought it was right, but maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s selfish after all.”

  “No,” Mary said. “Not selfish. Just because they have to leave you—that doesn’t mean they don’t know where they come from, where their birthplace is. It doesn’t mean they don’t know their Dreaming.”

  “I don’t think I have a Dreaming,” Ella said sadly. “All I have is being confused.”

  “Their Dreaming is the place,” Mary said, cutting the bread into chunks and putting it in a glass dish. “And the people. Your past, and your people’s past. What Nyree says. But you can tell them. They don’t have to have their past wiped out. Not gone like it was nothing.”

  “Open adoption, you mean,” Ella said. “I thought it was better for it not to be that way. That they could start over with their new family, and I could start over, too.”

  “Not better,” Mary said. “You can’t wipe out the past. You can try to forget your babies in your mind, but your body won’t forget. It will never forget.”

  “Oh,” Ella said, and her chin wobbled. “So… it’s better if I keep them?”

  “No,” Mary said. “It’s better if they know where they came from. And it’s better for you to feel sad. It doesn’t kill you, sadness. It won’t be the only sadness. Just the first one.”

  Marko washed up in the toilet built into one corner of the mudroom, then pulled off his gumboots, hung up his jacket, and headed into the kitchen with his dad.

  “I smell bacon,” he said, stooping to give Amona a kiss. “Nyree doesn’t cook for me, can you believe it?”

  “She’s busy, maybe,” Amona said, and Marko had to laugh.

  “Yeh,” he said. “She is. Three jobs, now I think of it. At the restaurant, and painting, and helping Ella. And she told me cooking wasn’t part of the deal.” He sighed. “Waiting for Nyree to crack… that can feel like a long wait.”

  He shot Nyree a look, but of course she wasn’t blushing. She was laying the table, and all she said was, “True. But then, you’re a man who loves a challenge.”

  “I do.” He went over and gave her her own kiss. He felt good. The cold air, the mountains, the sheep. Whistling to the dogs and watching them do their job, nipping at the animals’ heels, herding a mob of four hundred as smoothly as if you already had them in the chute. And working alongside his dad. A different kind of team, but a good one.

  Breakfast was quiet, as usual, focused on the business of eating. They were just finishing up when the doorbell rang. Loudly.

  His mother set down her napkin and stood up. “That’ll be for the B&B. The cards said ‘Surprises’ today, after all. I got breakfast first, though.”

  When she came back in, though, it wasn’t B&B guests at all. At least it didn’t look like it to Marko, not from his mum’s body language. A tall, handsome, brown-skinned man, a brunette woman, and a boy of sixteen or seventeen, nearly as tall as his father.

  “Sorry to interrupt your meal,” the man said. “But we just heard what happened, and that Ella’s home again. Julian here has something he needs to say.”

  They moved to the lounge. All of them. And if Marko had gone still, his dad had gone more so. Everyone took a seat, but at a nod from his own grim-faced father, Julian stood with his hands clasped in front of him, swallowed hard enough that you could see his Adam’s apple bobbing, and said, “Ella’s baby. I’m the, uh… dad, I guess. So I came to ask what I should do.”

  Ella said, her voice nearly steady, “Nothing, that’s what. I’m taking care of it. Caro didn’t need to tell you I was coming.” She shot a look at her cousin. “And it’s not a baby anyway. It’s two babies. Twins.”

  Julian looked like he wished a bolt of lightning would hit him right now, because that would be easier. “Oh,” he said.

  “You’re having the babies, though,” his father said. “Obviously. So I reckon Julian does need to do something. Get a job, for one.”

  “No,” Ella said. “I’m having them adopted.”

  Julian, looking like his legs wouldn’t hold him up anymore, sat down abruptly beside his mum and said “Oh” again.

  “And you don’t have to do anything for that,” Ella said. “Not even sign anything. All I have to do is not put his name on the birth certificate.”

  “Wait,” her grandmother said.

  It was quiet, but Ella stopped talking anyway, looked at her grandmother, and said, “You mean the babies will need to know.” Amona didn’t say anything, but Ella seemed to get a message, because she told Julian, “You’ll need to sign, then. Put your name down on the paper, and say you agree to give them up. But not until after they’re born.”

  “Right,” Julian said with an escape of breath that stated, as clearly as if he’d said it out loud, “Thank God I’m done, then.”

  “Clothes,” his father insisted. “Food. There’s a price to pay.” He nodded at his son.

  Julian hesitated, then pulled a wad of banknotes from his pocket, walked across the room to Ella, and held it out to her, looking like he wished he could snatch it back. “What I’ve got in the bank.”

  Ella glanced at her aunt and uncle. Marko’s mum said, “Take it. It’s better for him to give it.” Julian didn’t look convinced, but he also didn’t look like he had any choice.

  Marko’s dad said, “If you’ve got something you want to tell Julian, Ella, now’s the time.” His arms were crossed over his chest, and Marko wouldn’t have wanted to be the one facing him right now. Standing between both of those dads… that wouldn’t be a happy place.

  Ella hesitated for a long moment, and there was no sound in the room but the tick of the clock. Her grandmother was the one who finally said, “There are no right words. Just the words you need to say.”

  Ella took a deep breath, clutched Caro’s hand like a lifeline, and said, “It’s not your fault I got pregnant, any more than it’s mine. Or it’s both of ours. Anyway, it happened. But when I told you, you ran away. That’s your fault.”

  Julian said, “I was scared.” He was nearly as tall as Marko, and he was no kind of man. Maybe someday. Not now.

  “I was scared, too!” Ella burst out. “I was so scared, but I couldn’t run away from it. Did you think about me?”

  If a boy had ever looked miserable, it was this one. “I did,” he insisted. “After. But Caro said you’d gone to Auckland.” He glanced at Marko, but looked away again fast. One guess why. “So I thought… nothing I can do, eh.”

  “You could have asked how I was,” Ella said.

  Julian didn’t answer. What answer could there be? More ticking of the clock, and finally, he said, “I, uh… I�
��m sorry. And I could… ask you now. I still want to…” He trailed off.

  “You still want to what?” Ella asked. “Yeh, good luck with that.” Her belly was showing under her PJ top, even though she’d tried to pull it closed, and Julian was looking anywhere else, like the sight of that round belly burned him.

  “I didn’t mean, uh…” he said. “I just meant, be friends.”

  “You’re not my friend,” Ella said. Her voice was shaking, but her eyes were burning. “And you don’t get to be my boyfriend, either. I’ve got a boyfriend already. A better one.”

  The tips of Julian’s ears were red, and there was a flush over his cheekbones when he said, “You don’t. You can’t. You’re just saying that to make me feel worse. I feel bad already, all right? And I just gave you all my money, saving for my motorbike and all.”

  Ella had her arms crossed herself now. “I do, though. And he’s better than you ever were. I don’t mean like that. I mean he’s kind. He’s there. He doesn’t care that I’m pregnant. He sees me. All you see is my belly, and your stupid motorbike.” She stood, a little awkwardly, and clutched the fistful of notes. “I want to throw this in your face, but I’m not going to. I’m going to spend it on new PJs. And I hope you never get your motorbike.” She was blinking hard and breathing harder, and Caro was up beside her, putting her arm around her cousin. Ella shook her head, her blonde hair flying, then turned and hurried out of the room with Caro following behind.

  Silence, again, until Julian’s mother stood up and said, “That’s it, then. Julian will be getting a job and giving Ella what he earns until the babies are born.”

  Julian’s mouth opened, then shut, and she said, “Don’t talk.” Then she turned to Marko’s parents and said, her voice formal, controlled, “We accept the responsibility. We’ll go now. Thank you.”

  When Marko went upstairs, saying, “Shower,” Nyree went with him. Ella had her cousin Caro, plus the best aunt and grandmother a girl could possess, full of more wisdom than she’d ever have. And she needed to talk to Marko.

  But when he opened the door and came back into the bedroom again, dressed only in a pair of clean jeans and with a towel in his hand, she may have lost the plot a little.

  “It’d be easier to talk to you,” she said, “if you didn’t have so much… torso. Bloody hell, boy, cover that up. Also if you’d shaved since your match.”

  He looked her over as she sat cross-legged on the bed. Slowly, and without a smile. She was losing her breath, but she kept on trying. “Yeh, that’s pretty dirty and all, but your mum wants us to go get groceries for dinner. Not to mention that I’m not wearing anything sexy.”

  “Oh?” he said, amusement in his dark eyes and his voice at its silkiest, like he saw her bet and was raising it, sliding the chips across the table. “You were wearing those gray jeans and that top when you took those first photos of me. Tell me about how you’re not sexy when you’re not showing me that sweet spot down near your tailbone, and when you don’t have skin like that. It was one hell of an effort not putting my hand there when you walked through the door ahead of me.” He sighed, lifted the towel in his hand, and rubbed his hair dry, which had the effect of flexing his considerable biceps. And his shoulder muscles. Not to mention pulling his abs tight… Her mouth may have gone dry. V-shaped torso, anyone? “Fortunately,” he said, “I don’t have to hold back anymore. I can put my hand there and feel you shiver. And later on, I can put my mouth there. Anticipation, eh.”

  “Groceries,” she reminded him, repressing the shiver that was trying to make its way out right now.

  “Groceries,” he agreed blandly. “But if you’re going to look at me like that, I may need to plan something special for you.”

  This time, she did shiver, and he saw it. “I, uh…” She cleared her throat. “I was also going to tell you what Ella said. And your grandmother. And so forth.”

  He approached the bed where she still sat, dropped the towel, got a knee on the mattress and a hand behind her head, leaned over her, and gave her a slow, deep kiss. After that, he stood up, gave her hip a slap, and said, “Come on, then. Groceries, and you can fill me in. Got to give me some time to plan anyway. We’ve never been on a date, now that I think of it.”

  “Yeh,” she said, sliding off the bed and not sinking her own teeth into one of those biceps, “because Tekapo’s such a nightlife hub. Cocktails and dancing, eh. Now, if we were in Northland, I could take you on a starlit ‘walk’ on the beach with a six-pack of beer. Party for two. No couch like a sand dune. No music like the sea when the surf’s up.”

  “Except that it’s sandy,” he said. “And maybe I want you comfortable. Or maybe not so much. We’ll see. No worries, though. I think I can do better.”

  He wouldn’t tell her, though, except that they were staying home for dinner. “Restaurants take too long,” he said, putting milk and eggs into the trolley. “Also—family time.”

  “And that everybody in the place would want to talk to you.” They were having a rough time just getting out of the supermarket. One conversation after another, and Marko being patient, because, as Nyree knew, that was part of the All Black job. If you wore the jersey, you were expected to fill it up off the field, too. No surprise that Marko could do it.

  Dinner was a cheerful affair, cooked by Ella and Caro and their grandmother, with the girls playing music, dancing around the kitchen and bumping hips, high on an emotional crisis overcome, and Mary shaking her head tolerantly. When they were eating, Marko said, “No music tonight for us, Mum, but we’ll be back for it tomorrow. Tonight, I’m taking Nyree out. Borrowing the ute.”

  “We’re going high-end, are we?” Nyree asked.

  “Nah,” Marko said, taking another bite of lamb stew. “We’re going where the roads aren’t paved.”

  “No black tie, then,” she said.

  “Call it ‘come as you are.’”

  When they climbed into the battered farm vehicle, after Marko had sternly told the dogs to stay, causing two Border Collie hearts to break, Nyree said, “Seriously. Where?”

  “Seriously,” he said, “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

  The moon was nearly full again, an enormous white disk just breaking the horizon. They drove down to the lake, and then they drove around it. Ten minutes, twenty, until Marko turned off onto an unpaved track Nyree couldn’t see. Slowing down, then, bumping over the track, Marko picking out the road until he pulled to a stop at nowhere special. She said, “If we’re here to look at the stars… well, actually, that’s all right. Although they’re the same wherever you are. Like your grandmother said.”

  Marko looked at her for a long moment in the faint light of the moon, then said, “You’re nervous.”

  “Well, yes, I’m nervous. If you’re going to be this bloody mysterious, I’m going to be nervous.”

  He leaned across the seat, took her chin in his hand, and kissed her, softly this time. “Good. I’m not going to scare you, just thrill you a bit, I hope, and thrill myself, too. But we need to get our skates on. This is a timed event.”

  “Oh. OK. I guess.” By now, she was thoroughly confused, and not much less nervous. What timed event? Meteor showers, if that was what this was, didn’t come with to-the-minute timelines.

  Marko didn’t say anything else, just dropped the keys onto the floor, reached behind the seat, and pulled out the blanket and sleeping bag from the night before. “Come on,” he said. “We may need to run a bit.”

  They did. He held her hand, matched his pace to her slower one, and took her on another path known only to him, down one hill and up another, through the scrubby heathland. Once her eyes adjusted, there was light enough. That moon, and the blaze of starlight.

  Finally, he stopped, said, “Here,” and started unfolding the blanket. Moving fast, now, so she caught the end and helped lay it flat. But once he had it on the ground, he said, “That’s the last you’re helping. Get that kit off and lie down. This is where the good part starts.”r />
  Just like that, she’d lost her breath again. “Uh… cold?” she pointed out, pulling off her shoes and socks all the same.

  “Never mind,” he said. “You won’t be. I promise. Time’s ticking. Get it off. Or I have a better idea.” He was out of his own jacket and shoes already, laying the jacket carefully onto one corner of the blanket. Now, he moved across to her, put both hands on her bum, and lifted her straight onto the middle of the blanket. And who knew that having your jacket unzipped one centimeter at a time, with a hard man staring into your eyes, could be that hot?

  He pulled off his own T-shirt in one quick movement, tossed it to the ground, and she reached out a hand for him. He said, “Another night, baby, it’ll be your turn. But not tonight.” He was pulling her down onto the blanket, seeming not one bit bothered by the chilly night air, then sliding the jersey up her body and over her head before moving on to her jeans, pulling them straight off her together with her thong. “I want to take my time with this myself,” he said, “but that’ll have to wait.” His deft hands were flicking the clasp of her bra, and then he was kneeling over her, dressed only in his jeans, unfolding the sleeping bag and placing it at their feet, then checking his phone, reaching for his jacket, and pulling out a roll of… something.

  “Like I said,” he told her, “timing. Which means I need to control all of this.”

  “Uh…” she said. “Huh? What is that? Also, I’m freezing.”

  “Let’s wrap you up, then.” He started to unroll something. Tape. It was tape. “You can get out of this,” he told her. “If you pull. Or you can ask me. Or you can stay where I put you. Your choice. “

  She’d been out of breath since they started running. Now, her heart was doing some kind of mad dance, and the shiver wasn’t from cold. “We can have our party without it,” he said. “That’s your choice, too.”