by Sarah Lark
Franz adopted a stern expression. “No, Kora, there aren’t any spirits. And if there were, then—then—” He cleared his throat.
“We’ll talk about spirits tomorrow,” Linda told the children. “Now, give the reverend the cards.”
Kahotu had been sitting by the fire, supervising the children. Now he approached with interest. “Are we opening a pub, then? I wouldn’t have expected it of you, Reverend.”
“I don’t want to play for this,” Fitz remarked, pushing aside the play-money. “Ante up, Reverend!”
Franz silently took the jewel-encrusted cross from around his neck and laid it on the table. “Does this satisfy your requirements?” he asked stiffly.
“Franz, you can’t do that!” Linda exclaimed. “Ida’s necklace! You love it so much.”
Franz turned his gaze to her. “There’s something that I love more,” he said calmly. “Trust me, Linda.”
“Seems a bit paltry,” Fitz said, fingering the piece of jewelry. “It’s pretty, of course, but compared to my stake—”
Linda pressed her lips together angrily. Then she took off Cat’s necklace and laid it next to Ida’s.
“This should be enough,” she said curtly.
Fitz grinned. “It will be my honor to return it to you when I win,” he said. “Let’s go, Reverend. I’ll deal.”
“Then I’ll shuffle,” Franz replied.
Fitz nodded.
Franz shuffled slowly and awkwardly. Finally, he spread the cards briefly into a fan, pushed them together again, and ran his thumb across their tops, making them rattle. He held the cards so he could see the numbers as they flickered by. The gesture was natural enough, as though Franz were just loosening the stack before dealing. But Linda noticed his expression. It was exactly the way he looked when he was trying to remember every little move of a craftsman he’d once seen at work.
“Give those here,” Fitz demanded, snatching the deck out of Franz’s hand. He split it and placed the bottom half on the top. “Just in case you memorized the cards,” he joked with a laugh and a wink.
Linda began to tremble. So, Fitz had also noticed Franz’s quick glance at the cards.
Franz was quiet as Fitz revealed the first card, a ten of spades. Franz accepted two more cards. “No more,” he said calmly.
Fitz revealed the second card, a two of diamonds. The possibility that Franz had more than twelve points was high, and the risk for Fitz to take another card was low.
“How many rounds are we going to play, anyway?” Fitz asked, stalling for time.
“Three,” Kahotu suggested. He was standing behind Franz and staring entranced at the cards.
Franz nodded. Fitz took another card.
“Damn it!” He angrily tossed a queen next to his other cards on the table. Twenty-two. One point too many.
“You lose,” Franz said casually, and showed his own cards. Sixteen points. He had won with a rather poor hand.
“Very courageous, Reverend,” Kahotu said. “That’s what I call trust in God. I would have tried a third card, myself.”
Franz shook his head. “How often do I have to tell you that blackjack has nothing to do with the supernatural. Next round, Mr. Fitzpatrick. I’d like to get this over with.”
Fitz passed him the deck. “Your turn to deal.”
Franz turned over an ace, worth eleven points, and an eight, for nineteen in total.
Fitz accepted two cards and grinned. “Blackjack!” he said, slapping a king and an ace on the table. Twenty-one points.
“This round is yours,” Franz said.
Linda held her breath. The last round would be the tiebreaker.
Fitz didn’t ask to deal the cards again. He watched as Franz revealed a two of spades and a nine of hearts, and then Fitz took another card, looking satisfied with his hand. Next, Franz drew a seven of hearts, bringing his total to eighteen.
“So,” said Fitz, “are you going to take another card, or shall I show?”
Kahotu rubbed his temples. Linda was biting her lower lip so hard that she tasted blood.
Franz took a deep breath. Then he reached for the deck again and added a two of hearts to his collection.
“Twenty,” he said with satisfaction. “You?”
Fitz went pale and furiously tossed his hand on the table. A ten of spades and a nine of diamonds.
“You must be in league with the devil!” he shouted as Kahotu and the children cheered.
Linda didn’t join their celebrating. She was stunned. The anger and fear would not subside so quickly.
Franz shrugged. “Three rounds. I won two.” He picked up his cross, gave Linda her necklace, and smiled at her. Then he turned to his students. “Who was good and did their homework instead of watching us?” he asked the group, but only saw two girls sitting with their books open. “Kiri and Reka. Very good. You may stop early today. Kiri, you can lend me your bottle of ink, and Reka, I need your notebook. We have to finalize our deal in writing, don’t we, Mr. Fitzpatrick?”
Fitz glared at him. “I demand at least two more games, I—”
“Fitz.” Linda shook her head. “You were always a sore loser, weren’t you?”
She watched as Fitz clenched his jaw, searching feverishly for a way out. Linda hoped he wouldn’t refuse to sign the document that Franz was now preparing in his methodical handwriting. At least, she consoled herself, if he did refuse, gambling for his wife would surely come up in a divorce hearing, and wouldn’t show him in the best light.
But then, all at once, his furious expression gave way to the old grin. Linda was shocked how quickly his features relaxed, as she had often been during her time with Fitz.
“Congratulations, Reverend. Luck was on your side. Looks like it’s time for us to say goodbye, my sweet Lindy.” Fitz blew a kiss. “You are free to take your place at the side of this man of God. Whether I give you my blessing remains to be seen. I—”
“Just sign it,” Franz said, holding out the quill.
I, Joseph Fitzpatrick, hereby agree to a divorce from Linda Fitzpatrick, and grant my divorced wife the sole custody of our daughter, Aroha. I will refrain from making any demands, financial or otherwise, on my wife and her family.
Fitz glanced through the text and made no further protest. Linda sighed with relief when he signed with a flourish.
“That’s it, then,” he said calmly. “Does anyone mind if I spend the night in the barn?”
Linda was about to agree reluctantly, but Franz was already reaching into his pocket. He presented two banknotes.
“There’s a guesthouse in the town,” he said, and tossed the money on the table. “You can go there. There will surely be enough left over for a bottle of whiskey as well.”
Fitz stood up. At first, it seemed as though he would leave the money there, but greed or sheer desperation overcame his pride. He grabbed the notes and walked straight out of the meetinghouse.
“I’ll follow him,” Kahotu said. “Just to be sure he doesn’t steal anything.”
Franz and Linda stayed where they were. They gazed at each other in silence. There was much that needed to be said, but 120 children were waiting for their dinner.
“I’ll—I’ll go back to the kitchen,” Linda murmured.
Franz picked up his coat. “I’m not leaving you alone as long as he’s here,” he said. “The children can clean up and set the table.”
“What about the evening sermon?” Kiri asked.
Franz stacked up the cards. “It’s canceled tonight.”
Even though Kahotu and Omaka helped serve the meal, it was another two hours before all the children were in bed. Franz and Linda were in the meetinghouse, preparing it for the next morning’s lessons. Aroha was fussing in her basket.
Linda finally broke the silence. “I’d like to put Aroha in her cradle now. Will you come with me?”
Franz’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t know. Is that appropriate? What if someone sees?”
Linda had to laugh. �
�Franz, you gambled for me today. That was wildly inappropriate! Besides, Kahotu and Omaka are Maori. They don’t care who’s alone with whom.”
“The children . . .”
“They’re Maori too, no matter how much pakeha nonsense we teach them. They weren’t raised to judge that way. Come now. Aroha needs a proper bed, and we can’t open this here.” She pulled a flask of whiskey out of her skirt pocket. “I talked Kahotu out of it, even though he insisted that he needed two bottles to calm himself down after today.”
Franz gazed at her uncertainly. “We’d be breaking every commandment,” he murmured.
“Only rules, not commandments. And the spirits were on your side today, even though you cheated. Don’t deny it. But there was also luck involved.”
“In the game, there was mostly bad luck. And besides, he saw me sneak a look at the cards.”
“Yes, but he couldn’t have imagined you were actually able to memorize them. That’s just eerie, Franz!”
Franz helped her with her coat. “I’ve always been able to do that,” he said. “I look at something, and then I can call up the memory whenever I want. In any case, blackjack has never had anything to do with luck for me.”
He picked up the baby’s basket, checked again that the fire was out, and held the door open for Linda. The wind and rain immediately blew against them, but they ignored it.
“I don’t usually cheat,” Franz continued as they hurried through the rain. “When the children play, I watch and take note of the cards that have already been drawn, until the deck is about a third gone. Then I figure out which cards must still be in there, and I know if I should expect higher or lower numbers. You can almost always estimate the other person’s hand and keep your own risk at a minimum.”
“No matter how you do it, it’s incredible,” Linda said as she opened the door to her house.
Franz lit a fire while she nursed the baby. Aroha fell asleep at her breast, and Linda laid the little one in her cradle. The pretty bed had been built and decorated by the Maori carving apprentices, adorned with symbols for protection and luck. Finally, Linda and Franz sat down by the fire, and Linda uncorked the whiskey.
“I need this as medicine today,” she said. “Oh God, I was so shocked when Fitz appeared! And then his threats, and the game—”
“Do you think he really was looking for you?” Franz asked.
Linda shrugged. “Yes and no. Of course he wasn’t expecting to find me here. But he’d heard about Mamaca and Chris. He was probably on his way to Rata Station.”
Franz rubbed his forehead. “And he was wondering why you weren’t there. What did he mean about Cat being your mother? And why did you react so strangely when he called me your uncle?”
Linda blinked at him in confusion. “Because you’re not my uncle. Though, to be honest, not even Carol saw you as an uncle. You’re much too young for that.”
Franz’s brow creased. “Carol? How could Carol see me as an uncle, but not you? You’re twins.”
Linda laughed. All at once, the trouble between them was clear.
“Carol and I are half sisters,” she told Franz. “Ida’s first husband, Ottfried Brandmann, was a terrible person. He treated Ida horribly, and he raped Cat, who worked for them. When Sankt Pauli Village was washed away, they were both pregnant by him. Cat wanted to leave to join a Maori tribe, but Ida talked her into staying. It was her idea to say we were twins and register us both as daughters of Ida and Ottfried Brandmann. At that time, they lived on a secluded farm, and they just hid Cat’s pregnancy. Carol was actually born a few days before me. She’s Ida’s daughter. Then I came along. And since Ida didn’t have any milk, Cat nursed both of us. We always had two mothers, and after Ottfried’s death, it wasn’t really a secret anymore. I mean, we didn’t hang it out like laundry for the neighbors to see. People like the Butlers already thought our family was strange enough. But I thought you knew.”
Franz was cradling his head in his hands. “Ida never wrote to us. It didn’t surprise me, because our father is, well . . .” He looked up. “And I have also been so narrow-minded. No wonder my sister didn’t trust me with the truth. It’s just, when I saw her again . . . At Rata Station, everything was so different than in Hahndorf. It was as though, well, you all seemed like heathens to me.”
Linda smiled. “I think all of this would have seemed heathen to you when we first met. You’ve changed. For the better, I think. And now you’ve got to tell me if Fitz was right when he said you were already in love with me at Rata Station.”
Franz blushed. “Head over heels. But of course I couldn’t let anyone see. Especially not you. And I shouldn’t now either.”
Linda had to laugh. “Franz, you’re wrong!” she said, teasing him. “Kahotu and Omaka have known all along. Only I myself was a little unsure. The way you acted—sometimes I thought you were like Fitz, and that scared me.” Her smile died, and she lowered her head.
Franz moved closer and awkwardly put his arms around her. “You were scared?” He tried to find the right words. “So—so you’re not indifferent about me either?”
Linda looked up at him. “No,” she said. “I am absolutely not indifferent about you. I think I love you, Franz Lange. And definitely not like an uncle.”
Franz glowed with happiness. “I’ve never kissed a girl,” he admitted shyly.
Linda smiled encouragingly. “It’s not so hard.”
Franz moved his face closer and kissed her then, gently and carefully. Linda returned the kiss. She had never felt so moved. Fitz had been skilled, but Franz’s kiss was one of genuine love.
“You’ll never forget this, I suppose,” Linda teased, as they finally lay side by side on her sleeping mat next to the fire. “It’s almost a little alarming. You’ll always be able to remember it, every movement. Does that mean you don’t ever need to do it again?”
Franz pulled her closer. “I always want to do it with you,” he said. “All my life. I want to live with you and have children with you.”
Linda smiled. “We already have more than a hundred.”
Franz looked at her earnestly. “Then do you want to stay here? With me and the children? Will you marry me when this nightmare with Fitz is over? Divorces take a long time, don’t they? If it’s even possible.”
Linda winked at him. “You won’t be able to get rid of me, Franz Lange. And as for divorce, if you want, we can ask Omaka to perform a karakia toko for us. That isn’t recognized by the pakeha, but to the spirits—and to God—it sets me free.”
Chapter 70
Eru and his friends spent several months in a prisoner-of-war camp near Wellington. Just a few days after their capture, Te Ua Haumene and his last faithful leaders had been arrested in a village near Opunake. The prophet surrendered to General Chute and was brought to Auckland, under heavy guard. The dramatic prisoner convoy was mostly a show of force. The government wanted any Hauhau warriors still hiding in the forest to know that their cause was lost. In Auckland, the prophet was jailed. He constantly insisted that he had never preached anything but peace, harmony, and love.
Chute returned to the north with his army and celebrated his victory, though he was criticized for his unscrupulous methods. In the opinion of the president and some opposing politicians, Chute’s campaigns had been less about peacekeeping than about usurping land. McDonnell and the military settlers were left to deal with the last of the rebellious warriors.
The main purpose of the prison camp where Eru and his friends were held was to keep the warriors out of the forests so the war wouldn’t be unnecessarily extended. The majority were very young men who had been recruited in their villages by the Hauhau. Most had gone to Taranaki more out of lust for adventure than deep conviction. The older, more committed Hauhau warriors wouldn’t allow themselves to be captured. They escaped into the forests, and preferred death to surrender. The prisoners were kept in primitive quarters, but were given enough to eat and weren’t abused. The main problem for Eru, Tamati, and Kep
a was boredom—and for Eru, the tortured insomnia that came from worrying about Mara every night. But then the men in charge discovered that the trio spoke good English. From then on, the camp commander, and then also the military control center in Wellington, employed them as interpreters. Eru, who had a perfect command of both Maori and English, both spoken and written, was especially in demand. Before the young fighter was finally due to be released in August of 1866, the camp commander called him into his study.
“You are being released tomorrow, Te Eriatara,” he said. “What do you want to do?”
For a moment, Eru considered lying, but then decided to tell the truth. Captain Tanner had always treated him fairly.
“My friends will return home to the South Island,” he said. “That’s where they belong. But I want to go back to Taranaki. I have a debt to settle with someone.”
Captain Tanner frowned. “Maori or pakeha?”
“Maori, sir.” Eru’s answer came like a shot from a pistol.
The captain nodded. “Good. I’m always glad to hear about you all pounding each other’s heads in. Just remember that it’s forbidden to cut them off and shrink them.”
Eru grinned.
“That said, Te Eriatara, I have asked you to come because army command wants to offer you a job. You are an excellent interpreter and have good manners, both of which are important to the pakeha. You also have mana, whatever that means, with the Maori. So, if you’re interested, directly after you are released, you may go to Colonel Herbert at army headquarters in Wellington.” He wrote down an address and handed it to Eru.
Eru accepted the piece of paper hesitantly. “As I told you, I have to go to Taranaki.”
The captain nodded. “Just listen to what the colonel has to say. I can’t make any promises, but perhaps it will be possible to combine your debt settling with your work for us. Just talk to him, and think about it. No one is forcing you, Te Eriatara. You are a free man.”
Eru and his friends were released on exactly the same day that Bill Paxton arrived in Wellington. The men crossed paths at the harbor, where Bill observed the Maori with the fully tattooed face in amazement. Eru didn’t even notice. He’d grown used to being stared at. If he saw people looking, he would turn away. Since Mara’s horrified reaction, his pride over his moko had gotten all mixed up with anger and shame about the terrible things the Hauhau had done.