by Ash Harlow
“This is not my doing,” I say. “I’m not in control of coincidences. You’re late for Matilda’s party.”
“What did she say?” Luther asks.
“She said hello. You need to get to the party,” I repeat because it’s giving me something to focus on.
“We were at the party, but Matilda’s mother forgot to buy pink lemonade and there was a minor Matilda meltdown. I offered to pick some up for her. Rachel’s feeling a little shy so she came with me. I’ll settle her into the party when we get back there.”
“Good, everything is under control, then.”
“Almost everything.”
“I need to get back to Mom.”
“Ginger, promise me you’ll take no notice of anything she says. I’ll see you at home.”
I crouch down to Rachel level. “Enjoy your party, sweetie. You look very pretty in that dress.”
Rachel has the bewildered look of a kid caught up in adult drama, and I hate that. Especially because not only is it true, but I’m not exactly sure what the drama is about. Mom’s almost made it to the car, so I have to run to catch up with her. I tell her to get inside and that I’ll unload the groceries.
We haven’t left the parking lot when she starts.
“I’ve seen that child before.”
“You can’t have, Mom. She’s never visited Waitapu.”
“You can try and write me off as much as you like because of my failing health, Virginia, but there’s nothing wrong with my eyesight. I know what I’m seeing. Who is the child’s mother.”
“The child is Rachel. I don’t know who Rachel’s mother is. That isn’t my business.”
“I hope you’re not lying to me.”
“Why would I lie about something like that?”
She falls silent until we reach home. “I don’t trust that Luther Angstrom.”
“That’s fine, Mom. I’m not asking you to trust him.”
“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid like get involved with him.”
I’m unpacking her grocery bags. “Where would you like the meat? Fridge, or freezer?”
“Your useless father always changed the subject like that. You don’t fool me, Virginia. Just watch yourself. Those Angstroms only care about themselves. Flash car or not, he doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”
I drive back to Ormidale slowly. The tightly coiled anxiety in my stomach feels like a snake that’s unraveled, stretched, and recoiled again.
I know nothing about Rachel and all I know about Luther is the happy little narrative I’ve weaved for myself over the years. I decide my mother is trying to stir up trouble the same way she always does when I’m doing something she’s not involved with.
Somehow she found out about Darcy’s problem ex-boyfriend and tried to stop me working with her. She doesn’t like Maraea because of some incident involving a distant uncle of hers years ago that is so utterly irrelevant I don’t know how she even married the two of them together.
I feel like having a headache so I can go and lie down somewhere and close my eyes, and just think. But I rarely get headaches, and I’m too scared to pretend I have one in case I’m suddenly hit by cluster migraines as punishment for lying. In the end, it doesn’t matter. Luther’s not home and I have the house to myself.
I find my Kindle and go up to my room to read.
I must have been tired because I awaken to a dark room and the sound of little feet running along the landing. I splash water over my face, tidy my hair and prepare to face Luther.
29 ~ LUTHER
I’m elbow deep in flour, making pizza dough, when Ginger comes into the kitchen. I stop kneading and wave her over. “Closer,” I say, then kiss her when she steps in. “Is that five-year-old exhausting you to the stage you need a nanny-nap?”
“That and her guardian’s demands. You make pizza from scratch?”
“Always. Though I can’t guarantee how these will go because that’s a new pizza oven.” I cover the dough and leave it to rest, wash my hands, and am about to pull Ginger into my arms when she holds up a hand to keep me at bay.
“My mother says she’s seen Rachel before.”
Fuck. She hasn’t. I’m certain of that, but I don’t want that woman even imagining that sort of thing. “This is why I wanted to keep Rachel away from her. Your mother has to involve herself in everything. She can’t have seen Rachel before because she’s only just arrived in Waitapu, and I’m guessing your mother wasn’t referring to possibly have seen you guys around town in the past couple of weeks.”
“That’s what I thought.” Ginger sighs. “I don’t know. She just gets in my head and she can be pretty convincing. She asked me who Rachel’s mother was.”
“Of course she did, because she’ll be looking for some little piece of dirt that she can turn into a salacious story. We both know how your mother operates. This is the first time Rachel has left Auckland. Unless your mother’s been up there, she has never met Rachel.”
“Good. I needed that set in my head. You’re right. Mom’s trying to get involved because I’m doing something that she has no control over.”
“Let’s forget about her.”
This time she allows me to take her into my arms and kiss her until the tension leaves her body.
“How was the party?” she asks.
“Exhausting. I stayed because Rachel wouldn’t let me leave. Me and all those mothers. I had no idea there was such a wild scene attached to those innocent little birthday parties. They drink wine, and the women are louder than the kids when they all get going. But seriously, I’m a bit concerned about Rachel starting school on Monday if she wouldn’t stay at the party for a couple of hours.”
“School’s quite accustomed to reluctant new entrants. I can stay for a while. Where’s Rachel now?”
“She’s got a DVD playing, but last time I checked she was asleep. She said she doesn’t want dinner. I’m not surprised. She ate like a horse. All the stuff we don’t let her eat.”
“She’ll have a sugar hangover in the morning.”
“Grab a coat and come outside. I need to feed the hungry pizza oven.”
“I’ll get Rachel into bed first, and then I’ll be out.”
“It’s supposed to be your weekend off.”
“You don’t get weekends off from children. They need you forever. Anyway, getting Rachel ready for bed is hardly a chore, but you might have to carry her up the stairs for me.”
Rachel’s like a rag doll, mumbling sleep-filled nonsense. Her little hands loop around my neck and she’s asleep again by the top of the stairs. I sit her on her bed, but she flops, horizontal. Ginger giggles. I sit Rachel up again but she collapses once more like an unsupported puppet.
“I’ll fix her. You go and play with your pizza oven,” Ginger says.
I’m chopping wood when Ginger reappears outside. She’s bundled up in a coat and scarf, but I’ve got the brazier burning so she’ll keep warm.
“Lumberjack skills, Luther. Very sexy.”
“Really? All those years sweating to become a hotshot lawyer were wasted? All I had to do was pick up an axe?”
“Yep, the axe will work every time, especially if you add a long beard and a flannel shirt. What can I do?”
“You can sit over there by the fire and drink this very fine glass of valpolicella while the pizzas cook.”
I watch her in the firelight. It enhances the rose-gold streaks in her hair and adds shadow to her face that only makes her more beautiful. She sips her wine and smiles. “That’s good. I’ve only had the cheap stuff.”
“I want to save you from cheap wine, and other things, Ginger.”
She cocks her head at me. “Nobody’s ever wanted to save me before.”
“I’ll always watch out for you.”
She has no idea I’ve been watching out for her for years. Sure, her path hasn’t been that smooth, but it would have been worse. What I didn’t expect was this situation we’re in now. My intention ha
d always been to keep my distance but fate has put Ginger and Rachel in my hands and I don’t want to let either of them go. Opening my life and sharing it with others is a foreign concept and tonight isn’t the first time it’s gripped me. I add more wood to the brazier and watch the flurry of sparks as the dry bark burns fast before the flames settle again.
Perhaps it’s time to reveal a few things to Ginger. Like the fact that I’ve pulled the nanny search, because what we have going on feels right. I don’t want to break up this cozy family unit we’re constructing. I’m a master strategist when it comes to somebody else’s life in turmoil. The place I find myself now proves I’ve always been right to keep my emotions locked down because I don’t have a strategy, I only have instinct and these fucking confusing feelings.
She’s sitting with her feet tucked up on the broad, built-in seats. They’re made from irregular slabs of macrocarpa and the interior designer bitched like crazy, trying to work out how to shape cushions for them. When I told her ass-shaped should work, she rolled her eyes and got on with the job.
“How’s the nanny search going?”
Damn. “Hang on a moment. Let me rescue the pizzas.” I’m serious about pizza and I like it plain. None of this cranberry and chicken shit. Tomato, buffalo mozzarella, and basil once it’s out of the oven. Running through the pizza assembly in my head takes my mind off the more difficult conversation I intend to avoid.
I pull the pizzas out of the oven and throw them on to the massive slab that serves as a table. The breeze has picked up. “Do you need a hat?” I ask Ginger.
“No. Just pizza. My god, Luther, these look fantastic.”
“Thanks. Dig in, get messy, I have loads of napkins.” I slide in beside her on the bench seat. I figure I’ll talk while we eat, in the hope that the pizza is so awesome Ginger won’t have too many questions. I wipe my mouth, take a slug of wine and think how much I’d prefer to be defending a guilty client in front of a hostile judge than having this conversation.
“I’ve dropped the nanny search.”
Ginger stops chewing and gives me a look of horror. Finally she swallows. “Why?”
I can hardly explain the reason to myself, so I change tack. “If you weren’t a nanny, what would you be doing?”
“I’d be trying to do the things I missed out on, like an education for starters.
“It’s not too late. What do you want to do?”
“I wanted to do something artistic. Graphic design, or animation. Vanessa stuffed that up for me by running away when she was sixteen. All I’ve had from Mom is ‘you’ll end up like your sister if you go off to Auckland’. Problem was, I didn’t know what Vanessa had ended up like. Maybe she was living a great life, but Mom filled my head with stories that haunted me when I was growing up. And as a result of Vanessa running off when I was a kid, I never got to leave Waitapu and finish my education. I could have just gone, but I do love Mom, despite all of her faults. If I left, she’d have nothing.”
I pull Ginger in against me. Fuck it, this is why I don’t do the personal stuff because unlike my job, I have no idea what sort of shit these conversations will raise.
“Then, of course, Vanessa died. I asked about a funeral and Mom said Vanessa was cremated already and that she never wanted to come back to Waitapu, so what was the point of fussing about a funeral. It sounds so cold-hearted but she must have been hurting.” Ginger gives a little shrug. “I don’t even know if her ashes were scattered somewhere or if they’re gathering dust on a crematorium shelf.”
“I’m truly sorry, Ginger.”
“I didn’t really know her. I was six when she left home. Some people have it worse. Look at poor Rachel with no mother. Mine might be a nightmare, but at least I have her. God, listen to me. I’ve no idea why I’m dragging all of this up. Must be the emotional fallout from seeing Mom today.”
Am I going to hell? Quite likely. But everything I do and say, every secret I keep, every person I watch out for, I do it with the best intentions.
“I think that’s enough gloom for one night. What have you got planned for tomorrow, because Rachel and I want you to come with us. We’re packing a picnic, grabbing a boat from the Lodge and going over to the islands. The weather is going to be perfect.”
“I’d really love to do that.” She takes another sip of wine, and when she replaces her glass on the table, she shifts away from me. “I’ve got to ask again, Luther. Why have you canceled the nanny hunt?”
“I got bored.”
“Luther!”
“Sorry. Okay. We love having you with us, Ginger. Stay. You can still work with Darcy, or sign up for a graphics course. You can do most of it online these days, and if you have to travel to a campus at times, we can sort something out for Rachel.” I’m pulling stuff from the air. I’ve no idea how graphics courses work. I’ve no idea how relationships work, either. “Let’s give this a go. You, me and Rachel. I’m becoming hooked on you, Virginia Hough.”
“Do you mean, seriously together? Like a relationship? Exclusive. The kind that everyone knows about?”
Fuck, is that what I mean? I guess it is. Hearing it out loud isn’t as frightening as I thought it would be. “A relationship. Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.” The fact that I’m not hyperventilating is a good sign.
30 ~ GINGER
It’s Monday. Rachel’s first day of school and the kitchen is more chaotic than usual. Everyone’s had breakfast. Rachel’s in her school uniform and is sitting on a stool while I French braid her hair.
“Will the other girls have their hair like this?” she asks in a soft voice.
I know what she’s really saying. Instinct tells her it’s best to blend in rather than stand out. “Some girls will, and some girls won’t.”
“Will my teacher be nice?”
“Who? Mrs. Turner? She’s awesome. The new entrants love her. She’s lots of fun, and she’s a little bit like your Grandma, so I think you’re going to get along just fine.”
“Okay. And, if I don’t like it you’ll come and get me and we can go to the beach.”
I glance at Luther whose eyes go wide.
“Luther,” I say, hoping he’ll step in here.
He crouches in front of her. “Listen, sweetheart. You’re going to love it and you’ll learn so many things that you’ll come home and be able to teach them to Ginger and me.”
She giggles. “And you can call me Mrs. Turner.”
“That’s the spirit. And Matilda will be there with other girls you met at the party.”
“Jasmine?”
“Yes, Jasmine,” he says. “She’ll be in your class, and Matilda will be in the class ahead, but you’ll be able to play with them during break.”
Rachel claps her hands, and Luther gives me a wink. Crisis averted.
“Race you to the car,” Luther says, and he and Rachel run from the kitchen.
“Ginger lost the race,” Rachel calls out when I reach the garage.
We’re taking two vehicles which is bad for the planet but necessary because I’ll stay on at school for a while and Luther has to get to the office.
It strikes me that we walk through the school gate like ordinary parents on their child’s first day. Rachel is between us, holding our hands, and to somebody who didn’t know, we’d look like a regular family. But that’s the good thing about a small town. Everyone knows, and no questions are necessary.
Luther gets a lot of looks from the mothers and I can’t help the little burst of pleasure I experience over the fact that he’s mine.
The principal escorts us to the classroom, talking with Luther about the weekend rugby game. Somehow, Luther manages to hold a discussion about it when I know he didn’t see a minute of the game on the television.
At the classroom we’re introduced to Mrs. Turner, who both Luther and I know. One of the girl’s from Saturday’s party, who turns out to be Jasmine, shrieks when she sees Rachel and rushes up to take her hand. Rachel scarcely manages to say goodbye
to us before she’s dragged to a vacant seat beside her friend.
“If I were you,” says Mrs. Turner, “I’d take this opportunity to quickly say goodbye, and vanish while she’s distracted.”
It feels mean, but I guess the teacher knows best, and when we say goodbye to Rachel, she’s so excited to be back with her friend that she gives us a quick wave and we’re dismissed.
“That was painless,” says Luther, as we walk to the gate.
“Incredibly so.” We’ve reached our cars.
“If Darcy gives you a lunch break, come to my office. Call to let Sammy know, and he’ll free some space in my schedule.”
“I thought you’d have had enough of me,” I tease. I’m staying longer and later in Luther’s bed each night, and only just made it back to my bedroom this morning before Rachel appeared to wake me.
“I cannot ever have enough of you,” he says, and kisses me with probably more fervor than has been seen at the school gate for some time.
I don’t make it to lunch. Darcy and I had a meeting at the local council office which took us well into the afternoon. Darcy has been working on securing the contract to promote SpeedFest which will be a summer event involving anything that goes fast on land, sea and air. Hot rods, motorbikes, speed boats, planes. Today she was awarded the gig so we had our first briefing. I only just get out in time to collect Rachel from school.
She’s flushed, hair a mess, muddy knees, and most of all, a smile from ear to ear. She does the grand farewell at the gate, waving goodbye to a multitude of children who all seem to know her.
“I’m starving,” she announces as she buckles herself into her booster seat.
“Me, too. When we get home I’ll make you a special soda. And we still have some chewy chocolate cookies left.”
“And an apple because I have to look after my teeth.”
“Of course. What did you learn today?”
“We learned letters, but I already knew them. I have a special workbook for home. You and Daddy Luther have to check my work.”
“Okay.” Daddy Luther. That’s new.
