“Let me know, and I’ll give you my credit card,” I put in. “And thank you. I don’t know what to say. I know it’s my job.”
“It’s not your job,” Honor said. “Your job was getting them out, and providing for them. Which you’re doing.”
“Well, with Gray’s help,” I said.
“Is he complaining?” she asked.
“No,” Gray said. “He’s not.”
“Anyway,” Honor said, “they can’t get everything done while they’re tiptoeing around here all day because you’re asleep. We need to cook and shop as well, and do some cleaning, too.”
Gray said, “I wonder where this is going.”
Honor said, “I’d like to sleep over here with the girls. Daisy can sleep at your house, Gray. You’re gone during the day anyway. She won’t be disturbed, and the rest of us won’t be disturbing her. Also, I’d rather do the cooking over here, because that kitchen of yours is mad, and I’d like to use the spa tub. I’ve got quite used to having one, and I’m missing it.”
“What an interesting suggestion,” Gray said. “So practical.”
I said, “Oh. Of course.” I was trying not to blush, which was ridiculous. We’d just been talking about sex. About Gray and me having sex. Why did this feel so awkward? Other than that it was his mum talking about us having sex, of course. I went on, trying for casual, “I’ve heard your bath is lime green, though.”
“It is,” Gray said. “My bedroom’s horrible, too. And then there’s the kitchen, like Mum says. Never mind. You can give me ideas about what to do with the place. Useful, eh.”
“All right,” I said, trying to be as casual as the two of them and failing. “I’ll just change the sheets, then. And, uh, move my things over.”
“Another good idea,” Gray said. “I could help you. I’m quite good at carrying things.”
Which was true.
Honor was still around when Gray went home for a while. “To get my gear and wire up the yurt to the alarm system,” he explained. “I’ll put a camera on the door, too, because having a weak link like this is pretty stupid.”
I told him, “I could help you, if you like. Be your assistant.” Feeling shy about it. Maybe he wanted a break from me. Not unreasonable.
He said, though, “Help would be good. Especially yours. Let’s do that.” So that was all right.
Honor helped me make the bed up with clean sheets. Tan ones this time. I said, for something to say, “Tan isn’t as bad as brown, but it’s not my favorite. You may have noticed that all the clothes at Mount Zion are brown. I still hate it.”
“You should buy some new ones, then,” she said. “Or better yet, get Gray to give you his credit card. He’s too busy with work just now to be shopping for sheets.”
I paused in the act of shaking a pillow into its case and said, “I know he is. He probably has work to do this weekend, in fact.”
“He probably does,” she said. “I imagine he’ll get to it. He generally does.”
I stopped pretending to work and said, “That’s why I’m surprised you offered to switch houses with me, or gave me that graceful way to do it.”
“Are you?” she asked. “Why?”
I sat on the bed and confessed. “Because I haven’t been sure you liked me.”
She sat down herself and said, “I always liked you. And I also thought you’d break Gray’s heart.”
“Oh,” I said, then couldn’t think of what else to say.
“Course,” she went on, “that was pretty silly of me. He’s got a strong heart. Stronger than I realized, maybe. Exactly like the rest of him. Reckon he can take care of himself. That’s mums, though. Worrying, eh.”
I said, “I’m too much work. I do realize that. I’ve got so much baggage, I could open my own luggage shop. And I’m not even talking about my sisters.”
She said, “Good thing Gray’s used to hard work, then. How’s he doing so far?”
“Amazing,” I said. “He’s doing … amazing.”
“He’s got baggage of his own as well,” she said. “You may want to think about that.”
“I know,” I said. “Head knocks. TBIs. I know what that means.”
“Reckon you do,” she said. “Makes you want to cut and run, does it?”
“No,” I said. “Of course not. He’s wonderful. You’re his mum. You must know he’s wonderful. Besides, I’m a nurse.”
“That’s right,” she said. “You are. And I’m thinking that if I told you to leave him alone, you’d answer about the same as he would if I tried to tell him. You’d both tell me to bugger off and mind my own business, and I’d never see my grandchildren. May as well make the best of it.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or … something else. I said, “We’re not … we haven’t … we’ve known each other hardly any time at all.”
“Oh?” she said. “That how it feels, then?”
“No,” I admitted. “It feels … I can’t even tell you how.” Like forever, I wanted to say, and didn’t dare even think it.
“I know how,” she said. “I met his dad when I was seventeen and he was twenty-four. He wasn’t much to write home about, you may think. Too old for me, no more education than I had myself, rough as guts, and taking me all the way to Wanaka. All the way from Auckland, and that journey was a different story then. The Mainland was the back of beyond, nothing but sheep and mountains, and Pakeha as you like, not an Islander to be seen. And I wouldn’t have listened to anybody who’d tried to warn me about any of that. I stayed where I was even after he died, because he was there in the mountains, and I didn’t want to lose him. Every sunrise and every sunset, he was there. He still is. Talking too loud. Laughing too hard. Loving me with everything in him. He’d pick me up off the ground every day when he came home from work, spin me around, and kiss me like I was the very best thing in his day. No man had ever picked me up before, I’ll tell you.”
I said, “He died when you were pregnant. Gray told me. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeh,” she said. “He did. Died trying to save his mate from a bushfire they were working. Always the strongest one out there, and the bravest. The first man in, and the last one out. The kind of man you could count on. Full of mana.”
The tears were here behind my eyes again, and this time, they weren’t for me. I said, “Like his son.”
“Yes,” she said. “Exactly like his son.”
50
Pick-Up-Able
Gray
I’d been right. Daisy was pick-up-able. Wonderfully, delectably, deliciously pick-up-able. I had heaps of opportunities to find that out during that week.
When I came home on Monday, she met me at the door, and all the troubles of the day dropped away. This time, when I picked her up, I didn’t have to tell her to wrap her legs around my waist. She did it anyway.
The kiss started out hot, and then it got hotter. Her hands were around my head, her tongue was in my mouth, and she wasn’t saying anything at all.
When I shoved her up against the door, she gasped, and when I pulled her blouse open, she moaned. Also, she was wearing a skirt.
Well, yeh. Most men probably don’t celebrate Day Three of getting a woman out of the Sexually Scared Zone by ripping her clothes off and fucking her against the door. Just me, apparently.
Also, it was a good thing she’d switched houses with my mum. Tolerant as my mum was, that could’ve been embarrassing.
And that was about how my week went. Daisy and I went for a long run or bike ride when I got home from work, even if it was late, sweated and pushed each other to train harder, then took a shower together, giving me a chance to put my pick-up-able theory to the test once more. We ate very late, and everybody else waited for us, which was either Excessively-Mount-Zion or Family Time, I wasn’t sure, but which felt pretty bloody comfortable. Dinner was something Oriana or my mum or Daisy herself had made, and since they were all better cooks than I’d ever be, I didn’t care who did it. Daisy and I did the was
hing-up afterwards, though, side by side in the kitchen, listening to Oriana talking about the garden, about the next farmers’ market, about Iris, about bees and jam and herbs and cooking, and to Frankie filling us in on her day much more sparingly. And then Daisy and I went to bed for a while and had a cuddle and a nap and possibly some slow, lazy love before she headed out to work again and I fell asleep.
Not a bad after-work program, you’d have to agree.
After Wednesday’s dinner, which was my mum’s creation of salmon cakes made with chickpeas and lime, served with mashed broad beans, plus a chocolate soufflé made by Oriana, in case the rest of it had been too healthy, the girls modeled their new summer Otago Girls summer uniforms for us. Oriana was excited, and Frankie was resigned.
“If I wanted to wear something this ugly,” Frankie complained, giving a flick to the fabric of the blue skirt and jacket, “I’d have stayed at Mount Zion. Shapeless skirt, clumpy black shoes, short white socks. I’ve hardly left at all.”
“The shirt has a pattern, at least,” Oriana said. “Well, stripes, anyway. Though you’re not allowed to tuck it in, which is sad.”
“The sack look,” Daisy agreed. “Popular with uniform designers the world over. Never mind, love. Think of it as the ticket price you pay to enter a whole new world. Computer science class, Frankie. That’s awesome.”
“Yeh,” she said, “though everybody else will know more. Maybe I can get help to catch up, though.”
“I’m guessing you can,” I said. “Teachers like pupils who make an effort, eh, Mum.”
“I’d know,” Mum said, “if you’d ever done it.” Which made Daisy practically fall off her chair laughing.
I scowled at her. “Stop it. I can’t help it if I liked rugby better.”
“Never mind,” she said soothingly. “Chelsea already warned me about your mental deficiencies, remember?”
“Also,” Oriana said, “you can do sport at school. I’m pretty good at swimming, and you don’t have to know rules for swimming. You just have to swim. So do you think I could?”
“Yes,” I said. “Absolutely.”
“I could play soccer, I guess, in the winter,” Frankie said. “Or hockey. That’s running, and I’m not bad at running, and I like to try to beat other people, too, I think. At least, I always did, even though I wasn’t supposed to want to. I won’t have any skills, of course. Maybe I should just do the running part.”
“I may not know about teachers,” I told her, “but coaches definitely like players who make an effort. And ones who want to win. I could teach you the basics beforehand, if you like.”
“Which one?” she asked. “Soccer, or hockey?”
“Either,” I said. “Or both.”
“You don’t know how, surely,” Daisy said.
I sighed. “Daisy. I was a professional sportsman. I do know how. Not that I wouldn’t embarrass myself in competition, but to teach her the basics? Of course I know how. Also, I may have a mate or two whose wife’s a pro. At hockey, not at soccer. For some reason, All Blacks marry Black Sticks. Maybe we like women who are good runners.”
“And who look good running,” Daisy said. Saucily.
“That too,” I agreed. I wouldn’t say that I’d never put a hand on her bum out there, when we’d been running. Or pulled her into a handy crevice in the rock, either. That had been last night, and it had been nice. Pick-up-ability once again. Very useful, in sandy places.
The next night, a few things happened.
First, I got a call from Luke.
“Yeh?” I said, tensed to hear it. “What?”
He said, “Nah, bro. No worries. All quiet now. I did see an old ute earlier in the week. Blue, not white, but some slow driving, maybe cruising the place. Came by on a couple evenings. That’s about it, though. Been out in front of the house as much as I can be, is why I saw it. Your plants are all trimmed, by the way, and I got another load of stones in and spread them around. Had to do something out there to pass the time.”
“Thanks,” I said. “For all of it. I’m putting you on speaker, so Mum can hear. Also, Daisy and the girls are here.”
“I replaced the flooring,” Luke said. “Painted the walls, and helped your mate Rangi with the window and the cameras. And found a new carpet. Good as gold.”
I said, “‘Thanks’ probably isn’t enough for all that. I’d have done the floors and the painting, but I appreciate it. Send me the receipts, and I’ll settle up with you.”
“No worries. Glad to be busy, to tell you the truth. I’m going to have to find something to do soon, because I’m driving myself mad. Hayden’s been working, and I haven’t. Been sharpening up the cooking skills, at least, though there was nowhere to go but up. My cooking skills were rubbish.”
“I hear you,” I said. “Me as well. I’ve got the better of this deal. Got my mum here, and Daisy and her sisters. Got cooks all over the shop.”
“You don’t have your mum for long,” my mother said. She was at the table, playing another game of cards with the girls. They’d moved on to Uno now. I was preparing my excuses for not being roped into euchre, once Mum got them further down the road. Three hours wasted. No, thanks.
Wait, what?
I told Luke, “Hang on,” then asked Mum, “What do you mean?”
“The girls start school on Monday,” she said, “and Daisy’s going back to day shifts. I’ll stay through Wednesday, since I have Tuesday and Wednesday off anyway. Wednesday night, I’m going back.”
“We said two weeks, “I said. “That’s one week.”
“You said two weeks,” she said. “You’ve got cameras around the house now, it’s alarmed, and I’ve got a job. I’m going back. Your friends are welcome to stay on, if it makes you happier. I never mind a bit of life about the place.”
Frankie said, “Oh, no,” and then shut up, looking miserable.
Luke said, “Whatever you think. Glad to help,” then added, “Hayden’s got ideas for you. For us. About the thing with the tradies. Labor marketing plan, he calls it.”
“Good,” I said. “I’m ready to hear them. Have him shoot them along to me, would you?”
“About that,” he said. “There’s an art show, I guess. Dunedin Art Show, tomorrow through Sunday. We’re coming over for it tomorrow night, staying till Sunday morning. He could show you the plan in person, if you like. Get Drew in on it as well. Kane, too. Offseason, eh. He’d come down, I think. He’s married now, and Victoria probably likes art.”
“If you’re gay,” I said, “surely you’re meant to say that without sounding like you’re saying, ‘Victoria probably likes liver.’”
“Nah, mate,” he said. “No correlation. I don’t hate art, I just don’t care enough to wander around all day staring at it unless I have to. I like the stuff you have in the house. Photos of mountains and things. That’s OK.”
I could hear some noise in the background. Some indignant noise. I said, “Let me guess. You’re a Philistine.”
“Well, yeh,” he said. “Probably. If Kane comes down, though, Victoria can go to the show with Hayden, and you and I can golf.”
“Brilliant,” I said. “I’ve got a membership at St. Clair.”
“Thought you would,” he said. “Not the toughest course in the world, St. Clair, but you can’t beat the view. Win-win, I’d call that. Get Drew and Kane out there with us, and we can call it a shareholders’ meeting and do Hayden’s presentation after. Saturday?”
“Saturday’s brilliant,” I said. “Dinner here at the house?” I raised my eyebrows at Mum, and she nodded, because feeding a crowd was always going to be a Samoan mum’s happy place. Daisy had the night off again on Saturday, and on Sunday as well, I happened to know. Monday morning, she went back to days, which meant we’d be on the same schedule.
This was shaping up to be a brilliant weekend, especially if I got some labor relief out of it at last. I told Luke, “I’d give you and Hayden the yurt to stay in, but I’ve got all these people.”
“No worries,” he said. “We’ve booked a place.”
Daisy said, “This is Daisy. You can stay at my place, if you like. It’s central, and it’s free.”
“It’s also terrible,” I told him. “Don’t take her up on it. It’s a home for the Mole People.”
“You keep saying that,” Daisy said, “but it has two windows now, remember?”
“No worries,” Luke said, sounding as relaxed and amused as Luke Armstrong was ever going to sound. “We’ve got a place.”
“See you Saturday, then,” I said. “I’ll check with the others and get a tee time. Back to you soon.”
51
Standoff
Gray
That was all good. And then Friday was a nightmare.
To begin with, Robbie, that lead carpenter of mine, got into a stoush with his boys, and three of them downed tools and walked off the job. Two hours later, I’d switched them to the dormitory buildings and got some fellas from over there to work on the music studio. I had a serious chat with Robbie and kept my temper, but it took every bit of effort I had to do it. I’d missed my lunch, though, and the sun was bright, and by two o’clock, I was vomiting behind the ute with Xena whining anxiously from the back seat.
When I walked around the truck again, my hand on the metal to keep my balance, I found that I’d run out of migraine tablets. That second one I’d taken in Wanaka had been the last, and I hadn’t replaced it from my stash in the bedside table.
I leaned over, my hands on my knees, and tried to focus. And my mobile rang. The driver of the concrete mixer, fifteen minutes out. Twenty meters away, the two new carpenters were looking at me, their body language tentative. Hovering, like they had a question.
I rang Mum.
She said, “Oh, love, I’m sorry. I’m getting passport photos taken with the girls. Forty minutes, though, and I’ll be back home and back to you again.”
Kiwi Strong (New Zealand Ever After Book 3) Page 36