Just in Time (Escape to New Zealand Book 8)

by James, Rosalind

  “You have some nice friends,” she told Talia once they had gone through town and were in the quieter residential streets again. “Thanks for taking me to meet them.”

  “Yeh?” Talia said cautiously. “You liked them?”

  The direct approach might not be best here, Faith decided. “Chaz is out of school, huh?” she said casually. “How old do you have to be to do that here?”

  “Sixteen. But he’s nineteen, actually. Just had a birthday.” Talia’s casual was almost as good as Faith’s. “I’m sorry he said that, about the…about the stripper thing. I didn’t think that, I mean, I didn’t think you were. I don’t really think my mum did either. She was just angry at the time, you know. Because of Will.” She was embarrassed, obviously, but points to her for actually acknowledging the issue instead of pretending it hadn’t happened. Not easy, at fifteen.

  “Mmm. And now he does some sort of fighting exhibition for work?” Faith could easily imagine how attractive and exciting that would seem.

  “Not fighting. Not like you’re thinking. It’s just a demonstration. He’s wicked good, though,” Talia added proudly, as if she couldn’t help herself. “Dead fast. He’s won competitions and all.”

  They’d made it to the house again, so Faith put her bike away, then followed Talia upstairs.

  “I do have homework,” the girl said. “Or I’d hang out some more. You know, keep you company.”

  Faith smiled at her. “That’s all right. I’ve got work to do, too. But thanks.”

  She went into the bedroom she shared with Will, which was empty. He probably wasn’t back from the gym yet. She turned on her laptop and sat at her desk with her hands poised over the keyboard for a minute. She should work on the Roundup copy, and she should polish her latest episodes and post them, too. But she didn’t do either. Instead, she called her mother.

  They got through the preliminaries, and then her mother was asking, as Faith had known she would, “So. You sleeping with him yet?”

  “You know what?” Faith said. “I’m actually not going to tell you. And before you say anything, I’m just about exactly as surprised to hear that as you are, so don’t even start. But I was so careful last time, and I missed him anyway after he left, so what difference would it make?”

  “Getting a man out of your system by going ahead and sleeping with him? It never works. Take it from me. Unless he’s lousy in bed, and honey, I doubt it.”

  “Maybe there are worse things than having your heart broken, though,” Faith found herself saying.

  “You think so?”

  “Like never having your heart be touched at all. Wouldn’t that be worse? But that isn’t actually what I called you about,” Faith hurried on. “There’s something I do need your advice on.”

  “Shoot,” her mother said, even though Faith could tell that she wanted to talk more about Will. But Faith didn’t want to, because she didn’t know what she felt. Or rather, she was afraid she did, and her mind kept skittering away from it. It was more than a crush now, she was becoming increasingly and uncomfortably sure of it. She was afraid that she was falling in love. And in a little more than a week, she was leaving forever. Will had never pretended anything else. If it had been a bad idea to have a fling with him, how much worse would it be to fall in love, act on it, and have all those feelings crushed? To fly back across the ocean, knowing that she’d offered him her heart, and that he didn’t want it?

  No. That wasn’t happening, because it would be more than she could take. Her vulnerable heart seemed to curl up into a tight little ball at the thought, and she had to force herself to breathe.

  She’d be brave, she promised herself. She’d take a risk, would let her heart be touched. Later. When it made sense. With somebody else, when it would have a chance of working out.

  She made herself go on. Maybe she could at least help Will with this while she was here. “It’s Will’s sister,” she told her mother. “She’s fifteen. And I think she’s getting…call it entangled, with a boy who’s nineteen. A boy I don’t like much, and that I don’t think her family knows about. He’s not even in school anymore.”

  “Too big an age difference,” her mother said. “Red flag. How entangled?”

  “I don’t know. But she’s on her phone all the time, texting, and I don’t have a good feeling. So what do I do about it? Do I tell Will? Do I tell his mother—who hates me, by the way, so she’d probably just hate me more if I did that. I could tell his grandmother, though.”

  “His mother hates you? Why?” Faith could hear the outrage in her mother’s voice.

  “Black widow?” she suggested. “Entrapping him?”

  “You? Guess they don’t grow them very wild in New Zealand, if you’re a black widow.”

  “Right. But what do I do? Do I tell her mother?”

  “No. Last thing you want to do. Then she gets even more rebellious, if she shared something with you and you ran away and tattled, got her mother coming down hard on her.”

  “Tell Will, then?”

  “Mmm…still no. Not unless you think it’s desperate. Same deal.”

  “Then what? Lecturing her on why it’s a bad idea wouldn’t work, I’m smart enough to know that. You were so good at being a mom to a teenager, but I’m not her mother, and I’ve got no power to do anything at all.”

  “What did I do when you were going out with that guy in college? That Trey?”

  “I don’t remember. Just that I was going out with him, and I thought he was really cool, and then I didn’t, and I broke up with him. Did you do something?”

  “See? You don’t even remember. I invited him to dinner. Over and over again. Let you see him sitting there, hear how he talked to me, let you get a little embarrassed, while I killed him with kindness. I let you see him through my eyes, is what I did, and that was all it took. He wasn’t a sexy bad boy then, he was just a jerk.”

  “Huh. That’s exactly what I’d say about this guy. I can’t invite him to dinner, though.”

  “Then some other way. See if you can spend time with the two of them. See what you can do. You’re a black widow, after all,” her mother said, sounding happy at the thought. “I’ll bet you can figure it out.”

  Cultural Evening

  “Where’s Faith?” Will asked the next day. He’d come back from the gym at five as usual, and hadn’t seen her since. He’d assumed she was out with his grandmother again, or on a walk, maybe, but now his mum and grandmother were starting their dinner preparations, and there was still no sign of her.

  “Talia took her to a concert,” his grandmother said. “The Kupe one, I think.”

  “What? Without telling me?”

  “Last-minute thing. They fixed it this afternoon.”

  “Could be she thought she’d taken enough of your time today,” his mum said.

  “That’s why she’s here,” Will said. “To take my time. Happy to spend it with her.”

  It was even true. He’d loved doing the treetop adventure with her yesterday. When she’d shrieked and pulled him in, and he’d felt her tremble at the thought of him falling…that had been worth the price of admission all by itself. Today, he’d taken her to a geothermal area, had watched a geyser erupt and walked over boardwalks across steaming hot pools in vivid shades of turquoise, orange, and green, had stood over bubbling mud pots and seen her laugh in delight at the silly sounds they made. All so familiar to him, but seeing it through her eyes had made it new. Special.

  Now, he wandered around the kitchen, leaned back against the bench, then had to move out of the way so his grandmother could get into the fridge. He thought about having a beer, then abandoned the idea. He was going to be ready for training on Tuesday, that was the one thing he was bloody sure of.

  “Have a good day today, Mum?” he asked instead.

  “Not too bad,” she said without looking up from the board where she was preparing vegies to roast. “Pretty busy day at the i-Site, considering it’s nearly winter.”
/>   “How did they get there?” he asked.

  “Who?” His mother was still chopping, still not looking up, as his grandmother washed mussels in the sink.

  “Faith and Talia.” he said. “Did Faith drive?” She wasn’t ready to drive at night yet, at least not without him in the car. If she turned out of the carpark onto the wrong side without thinking, still caught up in the show, and somebody else came around that corner…He was sweating at the thought.

  “Whose car would she drive?” his mother asked. He had to move out of her way again as she headed from the island to the oven. “They were collected in the van, of course. A couple of lovely Irish boys in there, too, that I booked into the show today as well. They’ll have a good crowd for it, I’m thinking.”

  His grandmother had filled a pot with water and was beginning to lift it from the sink, so Will took it from her and set it on the stove.

  Kuia looked at him and sighed. “You have two choices. Get out of the way so your mum and I can get dinner on, or go on and join them for the hangi, if you’re worried.”

  “I’m not worried. Just surprised, that’s all, that she went without me.”

  His grandmother stood with her hand on her hip and scrutinized him, and Will fought the urge to shuffle his feet. “I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you,” she said, “but I know what your Koro would’ve said. You want that girl? Go and get her.”

  “I’m not—” he began, then broke off, because he didn’t know how that sentence ended. “Right,” he said instead. “I’m off.”

  It made sense anyway, he told himself as he drove the fifteen kilometers around the lake and took the turning to the Kupe Maori Village. If he were meant to be the besotted boyfriend, surely he wouldn’t be sending his partner off on her own for the evening during their brief time together. Yeh, that was it. It made total sense.

  He walked across the carpark, opened the door, and entered a broad hall thrown up in a hurry and meant to look the opposite, like it belonged on a marae. Its wooden beams were painted with Maori designs, and there was a fairly crude wooden carving of a god in each corner. There must have been 150 people seated at round tables holding ten diners apiece, all eating the meal their hosts had roasted for them in the earthen pit. Doing the Rotorua tourist thing.

  Now that he was here, he was beginning to feel stupid, especially as he wandered around looking for her. How was he going to explain this? And then he found her, and didn’t feel nearly so stupid.

  She and Talia were sitting near the front of the room, at a table with two older couples who were talking to each other, because all the younger people were busy. Talia was focused on some bloke who was sitting between her and Faith, a bloke who had his arm over the back of Talia’s chair and was leaning in farther than Will felt happy about. Faith should have been doing something about that, but she wasn’t, because she was laughing and talking herself. To three men.

  All of them looked to be hanging on her every word. The lovely Irish boys, Will assumed. Of course they were interested in what she had to say, because she was wearing the short, swingy gray skirt and red jersey she’d had on when he’d met her at the airport, which was more than a bit tight for the occasion, wasn’t it? He could tell the lovely boys thought so.

  There wasn’t room at the table for Will, but he didn’t let that stop him. He went to the back of the room again, grabbed a chair, and hauled it up to the table, which was when she noticed him at last, and looked nothing but surprised.

  “Sorry I missed you, darling,” he told her. “And the show, too, of course. Got here as quickly as I could. D’you mind?” he asked the fella next to her, who was sitting back now and looking startled, as well he might.

  “Of course,” he said, and the three fellas shoved over, and Will pushed his chair on in there and sat down. He gave Faith a kiss while he did it, just in case any of the lovely boys was still unclear on the state of things. And he enjoyed it.

  “Why are you here?” she hissed at him the moment his mouth left hers.

  “Wanted to see my girlfriend, didn’t I. Who’s that?” he asked with a nod towards Talia’s companion, who had taken his arm off her chair now, at least.

  “Tell you later,” she said, but it wasn’t necessary, because Will had caught the young man’s eye.

  “Evening, Will,” the boy said as if he knew him, with a cocky edge that Will didn’t care for one bit. “You missed our show.”

  “This is Chaz,” Talia said. “He’s one of the performers here.”

  “And a friend of Talia’s,” Faith said brightly. “A school friend, except not exactly, because you’re out of school now, is that right, Chaz?”

  “Yeh,” he said. “I’m done with that. A man needs to be earning the dosh, eh, and I do all right.”

  “Was this the first time you’d seen him do his routine, Talia?” Faith asked.

  “It’s not a routine,” Chaz said. “It’s a performance.”

  “Oh, excuse me,” Faith said. “Is there a difference?”

  “What is it you do here, during your…routine?” Will asked, choosing the word deliberately.

  “I use the taiaha,” Chaz said, getting some of the swagger back. “Speak softly and carry a big stick.” He laughed and exchanged a look with the Irish blokes. “Or don’t speak softly and use my big stick. I like that one, too.”

  “He’s good,” Talia hastened to tell her brother. “You should have seen him.”

  “Course I’m good,” Chaz said. “Wouldn’t be here otherwise.” He lunged forward suddenly, eyes staring, mouth stretched in a grimace, tongue reaching nearly to his chin. “Hah!”

  You could call it a wee bit more performance, or you could call it a challenge. Will knew which one it was. Faith jumped, the Irish blokes laughed, and Will sat solid and stared Chaz down.

  “Not saying I’m the best.” Chaz sat back again and went for breezy unconcern. “But I’m not bad. It’s not easy, the taiaha.”

  “Will knows that. He knows taiaha himself,” Talia said, her eyes flying to Will’s.

  “Everybody knows it,” Chaz said. “But doing it as a game when you’re a kid, that isn’t the same thing. That’s not combat, eh. I just might be able to kick your arse,” he told Will. “You never know.”

  “You might.” Will kept his voice even. “And I might be able to kick yours.”

  No maybe about it. There’d been nobody better than Koro, and Koro had taught Will. Some of the deftness of Will’s handling on the paddock wasn’t just from growing up holding a rugby ball, it was from the practice he’d had with the ancient skills. Anyway, when you got down to it, it wasn’t about poncing about and looking good for tourists. It was about the will to win. If this arrogant little prat had half as much of that as Will did, he’d be surprised. What was he doing with his sister, and why had Faith brought her here to see him? He was burning to find out both things.

  “You about ready to go?” he asked Faith, because one thing was certain. She wasn’t spending another minute with the Irish boys.

  She looked startled, but she and Talia seemed to be done eating to him, and he wanted them both out of there.

  “I guess,” she said. “Talia?”

  “I want to stay,” Talia said. “It’s not over yet, and I can get a ride home in the van.” She glanced at Chaz. Or you can drive me, Will could almost hear her say, and that was happening over his dead body.

  “Your big brother wants you to run along,” Chaz said. “Thinks you can’t handle yourself, maybe.”

  “Yeh,” Will said. “I do. Want her to run along, that is.” He stood up, took Faith’s coat off the back of her chair, and held it for her. “You can tell their van driver,” he told Chaz, “that I took them home.”

  Talia shot him a look like thunder, opened her mouth to say something, then shut it again. Too accustomed to respect for her elders to make a scene, to Will’s relief, but on the other hand, she was still sitting down.

  Faith stood up, thoug
h, to Will’s deep satisfaction, and told the Irish blokes, “Very nice to have met you. Enjoy your stay.”

  “Yeh,” the one who’d been sitting next to her, a big red-headed fella, said. “You too.”

  Talia gave Chaz one more look, leaned close to whisper something in his ear, then stood up and shoved her coat on, her movements jerky, and Will let out a breath. He wasn’t sure what he’d have done if she’d refused. And now, Faith was going home with him. The way it should be.

  Conduct Unbecoming

  “All right,” Faith said to Will. “What was that all about?” Had it just been Talia? Or had it been something else, too?

  They were finally alone again. Talia had gone straight up to her room the minute they’d gotten home, and all Faith’s efforts to befriend the girl looked to have been in vain, because the atmosphere in the car had been thick with tension the entire way. Faith had done her best to draw Talia out about the evening’s entertainment, to get her to describe it to her brother, but without much success.

  “What?” Will had shed his jacket and was leaning into the refrigerator, pulling out containers.

  “Are you telling me you didn’t even eat? That you rushed over there to…what?”

  “Could’ve told me you wanted to go to a concert.” He dished shellfish and vegetables onto a plate and shoved it into the microwave without bothering to cover it. “I’d have taken you.”

  “That’s nice, but maybe I thought I’d spare you one tourist activity, at least. I can’t believe that you’d need to go see how the Maori welcome people to the marae, or how they fought. Something tells me that you already know.”

  He shrugged. “We’re meant to be together, aren’t we. People may think we’re having problems if you turn up without me.”

  “I was with your sister. I’d say that looks pretty convincing, girlfriend-wise. If anybody cares, that is, because I haven’t exactly noticed any paparazzi lurking in trees to take my picture. Those few photos in the paper, a couple column inches, and that’s been it. I hope it’s going to be enough.”