“You’re all right as far as you go,” she conceded. “But you fall woefully short in the companionship stakes about half the time. When you’re, you know, gone. Maybe you need to get demoted, or whatever you call it, so you can go play ITM Cup rugby for Drew and Hemi.”
“Bite your tongue,” he said. “Anyway, Bay of Plenty’s not my club, so you’d be out of luck there.”
“You can come stay with me while Koti’s off with the squad, Kate,” Reka promised. “As long as you bring my girl along.”
“Aw, no,” Hemi sighed. “There’s my secret plot foiled, the real reason we’re moving. Here I’d meant to get Reka out of the danger zone, stop her drooling over other people’s babies. I can hear the hormones talking now.”
Reka laughed and bounced Maia on her knee, prompting a chortle or two. “I don’t think that’d do it. Babies everywhere you go, aren’t there, or are you forgetting that Hannah’s got one for me to cuddle as well? And I don’t make them all by myself, boy. If you’re worried about it, you know the answer.” She made a scissors-gesture with two fingers. “Snip snip.”
“Aw, nice,” Koti groaned as everyone laughed. “Ouch.”
“You just made every man here cross his legs,” Hemi complained. “Snip snip? Geez, Reka. That’s me switching off right there.”
“Yeh, right,” she scoffed. “That’s happening. Men are such babies, aren’t they, Kate? One weeny little poke either side, and you’re done. Twenty minutes, and I’m driving you home with the icepack clamped to the wedding tackle. Just say the word, boy. Say the word, and all your worries are over.”
Josie laughed as Hemi groaned again. She couldn’t help it, because one thing was sure, none of the five men taking up so much space around her was a baby.
“Four kids,” Will said to Hemi lazily from the spot where he lay stretched out on his back, one big arm behind his head, the bicep bulging out in a perfectly satisfactory fashion beneath. Josie had grown up looking at brown arms and broad chests decorated with Maori tattoos, but rugby players, she was rapidly realizing, took it to a whole new level. “That’s a fair few. But not as many as you’re going to have, sounds like.”
“Four’s right,” Hemi said with satisfaction. “Saw them, didn’t you. Or can’t you count that high? My hopes for you boys next season just plummeted.”
“Making me shudder just thinking about it,” Will said. “Four? Too much responsibility for me.”
“Aaaand … the bookmakers just shifted the odds again,” Hemi said.
“Responsibility on that field is one thing,” Will said. “And being responsible at home’s another one altogether.”
Josie saw Hugh look at Will, could see the agreement he didn’t voice.
“How many do your parents have?” Hemi asked. “Tell the truth, now.”
“Five,” Will admitted with a flash of white grin.
“Uh-huh,” Koti said. He sat up and gave the soles of his daughter’s bare feet a tickle, making her kick her legs some more, giggle up at him. “The brown boys tend to win this derby. You can run, Will, but you can’t hide.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m pretty fast.”
“That sound you hear?” Koti asked, giving in to what was clearly a powerful impulse and taking Maia back from Reka, lifting her to give her a kiss on one deliciously rounded golden cheek, making her coo and pat his own cheek with a little hand. “That’s destiny breathing down your neck.”
Josie smiled and laughed with the others, watched Koti with his baby girl, and pretended that that was all there was. That the pain wasn’t there, filling the part of her that was empty, that would always be empty.
She’d come a long way, because even pretending would have been impossible a few years ago. She was a pretty good actress, but there had been no amount of skill that would have hidden what she’d felt then. Taking the long daily walks she’d known were necessary for her recovery, coming home drained every time, because Reka was right, there were babies everywhere.
More babies, surely, than there’d ever been before. In pushchairs, wheeled along by distracted mums who took their good fortune for granted. And the worst of all, the new ones in their prams, or held by a proud dad the way Koti was holding Maia now. Starfish hands waving, tiny fists clutching a blanket, gripping a handful of T-shirt, unfocused eyes blinking at the world around them from the secure haven of their fathers’ arms.
Yeh, she’d done more than her share of feeling sorry for herself, until she hadn’t been able to tell if the ache in her abdomen was a knitting wound, or a deeper scar that would never heal.
When Chloe had fallen pregnant, it had been almost too much to bear. Especially when her friend had confessed Rich’s reluctance, her own doubts. Josie had had to physically hold herself back from begging Chloe to have the baby and give it to her, because it wasn’t her decision. It wasn’t her life, and it wasn’t her baby and never would be, because she’d known Chloe would want Zavy in the end, and she’d been right.
Josie had been a friend, and a godmother, because that was what you did. She’d held Zavy when he was born, minded him as often as Chloe needed the help and she could provide it, had faked pleasure and interest for months—for years, if she were honest—until, now, she could actually feel it.
Most of the time, anyway. Most of the time.
“That was a good picnic,” Charlie sighed sleepily when they were in the car heading back to Devonport, the kids clearly as worn out on sun, sea, exercise, and food as Josie was feeling herself. “I like it best when there are other kids and it’s not boring. Jamie said they’re moving away soon, though. That must be hard, to move away.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Hugh said. “People do move. Not so bad. I moved to Wellington myself when I wasn’t quite your age. New school, new friends. Left my dad behind, too, come to that. And it wasn’t bad at all, after a bit. You’d get used to it too.”
“Are we going to have to move?” Josie could hear the edge of alarm in Charlie’s voice. “Away from here?”
“What? No. Of course not,” Hugh said. “That’s not the plan. You’re staying in the house, in Devonport. That was always the plan. That’s why Aunt Cora came, so she could stay with you. That’s why she’s here, so you don’t have to move.”
“Are you going to move?” Amelia asked, and she didn’t sound sleepy herself, the way she had been when they’d got in the car. She sounded very much awake.
“Just moved here, didn’t I,” Hugh said.
“To play for the Blues,” Charlie said.
“Yeh. To play for the Blues, and to live with you. And as the Blues still seem to want me, now that the thumb’s all good, that’s still the plan.”
Josie broke the silence that fell, because it wasn’t quite as comfortable now. Had Hugh realized what he’d said—and what he hadn’t? “Charlie’s right, though,” she said. “That was a good day. Thanks for that. And for the chance to meet my costar, of course.”
“Right,” Hugh said. “Your costar. Will. He going to do the job for you?”
“Oh, yeh,” she said. “I wondered, because non-actors are sometimes a little … stiff, but he’s clearly got what it takes to carry the day. He’ll be fine. You all will.”
“Huh,” he said. “He’s looking forward to it, I’ll tell you that. Maybe a bit too much.”
She glanced at him. Was he jealous? That was ridiculous, but … good to know. “You could beat him into submission, take his place,” she offered. “If you’re worried about who I’ll be kissing.”
She got a glance across the car for her pains before he took the turn onto Vauxhall Road. “Maybe I should.”
“Are you going to have to kiss somebody, Josie?” Charlie asked, because as always, he’d been paying attention. “On TV?”
“She’s always kissing somebody,” Amelia informed him. “All the time. All different guys.”
“You are?” Charlie sounded doubtful. “Then you should kiss Hugh instead, I think, because you know hi
m better. That would be more comfortable.”
Hugh ignored the suggestion. “How do you know who Josie’s kissing?” he asked, looking back in the mirror at Amelia.
“Duh,” she sighed. “Holly?”
“Don’t say ‘Duh,’” he said, his tone a little sharp. “It’s rude. And if Josie kisses people, it’s because it’s her job. They aren’t ‘guys,’ they’re other actors. It’s not real.”
“Thanks for that,” Josie told him quietly. “And good job on the other, too.”
He turned into their street, pulled into the driveway, and she got out, pulled her bag along with her. “Thanks for the day,” she told him again.
“Is the day over?” He sounded surprised. “Thought I was helping you with your garden. Or were you planning to wait?”
“No, I’m planning to do it. I’m called every day this week, and I won’t get a chance otherwise. But you don’t really have to help. It won’t take that long.”
“Of course I do,” he said. “I promised you I would. Besides, we’ve got Blues pride on the line here. If the boys and I are going to appear on the show with you, we need to make sure you’re rested, looking as beautiful as always. We wouldn’t want people to say that we’d clearly put you off.”
“That’s what makeup’s for,” she said with a laugh. “To make me beautiful when I’m not.”
“You don’t need makeup, Josie,” Charlie said. “You’re always pretty.”
“That’s about it,” Hugh said. “I stand corrected. But I’ll come help you all the same.”
“I will too,” Charlie said.
“Nah,” Hugh told him. “You and Amelia go have a shower and a rest. I can help Josie.”
He scattered the soil from the heavy bags over the ground she’d prepared, worked with her to rake it in. She tried to think of something to say, but everything seemed too weighted, and she was tired, didn’t feel up to being chipper. No matter what she told herself, being around babies and happy families still took something out of her. So she was quiet, and so was he.
“How’s it gone, with the ad campaign and all?” he finally asked once they were putting her ferns into the soil. “Saw they took that billboard down.”
It had been declared a nuisance during the previous week and removed. To full media coverage, of course, the TV cameras lingering one last time on her image as it was stripped away, the cars once again slowing on the motorway to allow the public to watch.
“Yeh,” she said.
“Not quite the result they were looking for, maybe, the company,” he offered.
“Nah. They’re quite happy, even more publicity than they bargained for. Gone over like that in the UK and Aussie too, they said.”
“More work for you, then, maybe.”
“If I want it.”
He was silent a moment more, and she wondered if she should try to explain, but he spoke first. “Not always easy to be out there like that. Or for the people who love you to see you like that, I’m guessing.”
“It’s been an issue, yeh. You judging?” She rocked back on her heels to look at him. “Because I seem to recall a certain advert with you boys in your undies. Using beautiful bodies to sell products isn’t exactly new, not on either side of the gender aisle.”
“Sorry,” he said, looking up. “Touched a nerve, I guess. No, I’m not judging. I’d be the last, wouldn’t I? That’s why they wanted us to turn up in our uniforms to do your show, after all. I’m not fooling myself that the ladies will be hoping to see a rugby demonstration, They’re hoping to see Koti take his jersey off.”
“And maybe you too,” she said, relaxing a little.
“Nah,” he said. “I’ve actually got hair on my chest. Nobody wants to look at that.”
“I looked today,” she said, and neither of them was planting now. “And it’s what I thought the first time I saw you, actually. That I would’ve bet you’d never waxed in your life.”
“You’d have won that bet, too. Always been horrified at the thought, tell you the truth. Reka’s right, men are babies. Should I, though? Wax the chest, shave the beard? Too hairy for you?”
“No. I told you.” She was back to planting now. “Manly. I think most women would think so.”
“I don’t care about most women,” he said. “I care about you.”
She felt the shock of it hit her chest, take her breath, looked up again to find his gaze steady on her, and she stood and gathered up the rubbish, buying herself some time.
“Since you’re here,” she said, taking the coward’s way out, “want to give me a hand with the vegies? I bought a few more things to put in, since we got a bit enthusiastic with the digging last month, working through my issues.”
“Just show me what to do,” he said.
She put him on to planting beans while she worked on the kale, and, finally, she spoke, because he deserved more from her than this. “It’s been nearly a month, and that’s a while,” she said. “But it takes a while, doesn’t it.”
“It does. Getting over a breakup,” he said, understanding her perfectly, she could tell, and she could feel the caution in him.
“But then,” she said, tipping the tiny seedlings with a careful hand and placing them gently into the holes she’d dug with her trowel, “It’s been nearly three months since Derek and I were together. The one visit I did pay him … all it really did was drive the point home. I see that now, that he’d gone someplace else, in all senses of the word. I spent a lot of time—too much time—wondering if he was with somebody else, too, and then I realized it didn’t matter.”
“So not too many tears shed?” he asked, placing the long wooden stakes next to the little plants, using the handle of his own trowel to drive them into the earth.
“Oh, there may have been one or two,” she admitted. “Angry at him, embarrassed, sorry for myself, facing up to having to start over. All that. May have been more than one or two for a while there. No telling what a person will do in the dead of night.”
“Nothing you let anybody see,” he said. “Never let them see you sweat, eh.”
“I’m guessing you may know a thing or two about that,” she said without looking at him, patting the earth around her seedlings with gentle fingers.
“Well, sweat, they see enough of that,” he said. “I guess I should say, never let them see you hurt. And yeh, I do know about that one.”
“And yet,” she said, her hands still busy, “when I think of the people I know with the most mana, like my Kuia—my grandmother, that is—and my dad. When I think about them, I realize it’s not that they never hurt, or even that they never show it. I think, you know, the strength isn’t in never getting knocked down. It’s in getting up again afterwards.”
He’d finished his own planting, was on his heels, watching her. “And that’s true too,” he said.
“Seeing as you do it all game long,” she said, “I guess that’s not so very profound after all.”
“No. It is, because you’re right, that’s the hard bit. When you’ve had a knock or two already, and you’re hurting. When you can’t win, and you know it. When you’re playing for nothing but pride, nothing but that you can’t bear to give up. That’s when it matters most that you get up again. Anyone can be strong when they’re winning, when they’ve got that rush. But being strong when you’re losing, when you’ve lost … that’s the test.”
She looked into his dark eyes, and thought that, yes, he probably knew a thing or two about loss. It was easy to forget that when Amelia and Charlie had lost their parents, Hugh had lost his father, and not only that, had lost the life he’d expected to have as surely as she had lost her own. If he seemed to have been having some difficulty adjusting to the change, that was hardly surprising.
“And the relevant point here, as far as I’m concerned,” he said, the solemn mood gone, replaced by a hint of a smile, “is that you aren’t crying any more over that spilt milk.”
“No,” she said. “I’m not.”
She caught the movement out of the corner of her eye, turned to see Amelia approaching across the grass, and Hugh saw her too.
“It’s dinner time,” Amelia announced, her tone, as usual, a little accusing.
“Oh. Right. Why don’t you and Charlie get it started, then?” he asked. “Do the salad, at least, turn on the barbecue for me. I’ll come over and do the steaks in a minute.” He looked at Josie. “We’ve got menus on the fridge now. Getting more efficient every day.”
“You are coming, though,” Amelia said.
“Be right there,” he promised. “Soon as I help Josie tidy up.”
Amelia took herself off with a final backward glance, and Josie began gathering and stacking plastic containers as Hugh picked up the tools, scraped the dirt off and bore them off to the shed for her.
“Thanks for the hand,” she said when they’d dumped the rubbish, were standing at the back gate. “I’ll run a bit of water over that, and I’m all good. And thanks for taking me along today.”
“Glad to do it,” he said. “On both counts. And, just for the record? I’m looking forward to Wednesday.”
He put a hand on her shoulder, bent down and kissed her cheek, the first time he’d touched her since the breakup. His beard scratched a bit against her skin, felt so male, and she leant into him and enjoyed it for the split second it lasted.
He dropped his hand, smiled down at her. “I reckon it’s not such a bad thing I’ll be there, either.”
“No worries,” she said, reading his thoughts without much difficulty. “Will may enjoy himself, I can’t help that, but I know how to keep it professional. I can keep my distance when I want to, even if I’m not keeping my distance at all.”
“And you’ll be wanting to.”
“Yeh. I will. And if I can’t manage it after all, well, I will have you there, won’t I?”
“You will,” he promised. “See you then.”
Just Not Mine (Escape to New Zealand) Page 19
