Kiwi Rules (New Zealand Ever After Book 1) Read online

  “Thought you were on my side back then,” he said. “This is a blow.” I thought I could see a smile trying to get out, though.

  “I was,” she said. “I thought you were the most wonderful man in the world. I couldn’t believe Hope kept screwing it up. I was fifteen. It took me a while to get the whole dynamic. Meanwhile, I have a caffeine addiction from all the times you sent me off while you guys had a fight, and if I’d invested all those twenties you handed me to do it, I’d be a whole lot richer. And, yes, I get that you paid for my surgery and may have saved my life, and, yes, when I got older, I also realized that you didn’t have to do that, because—guess what? Hope had broken up with you again! And, yes, you moved me into your apartment and paid my private-school tuition and supported me and paid for me to go to college and get my MBA, and you treated me every single time like I was your sister, not just Hope’s. More than that. You treated me like you wanted me, and like you loved me. I’m grateful to you for everything. For showing me what a man is supposed to be. For loving me even when I was the one being a jerk. For how much you’ve loved my sister, because she deserves it.”

  Her voice was trembling, and I’d swear she was shaking. There were spots of color on her cheeks, and I didn’t think this was good for her, but maybe it was necessary. Opposite her, Hemi was sitting absolutely still, his eyes fixed on her. Letting her have her say. Not quite the man I’d thought him, then. A better one, maybe.

  In the end, I just held Karen a little tighter as she went on to tell him, “But none of that gives you the right to come here and insult Jax, or to tell me I can’t judge what I see. I’m here to do a job for you, and I’ve been doing it. I’ve been taking notes and pictures, and you’ll get a full report. I’ve also already told him that I’m not in the will, so his big plan to marry an heiress is busted, and you notice? He’s still here. And he’s never made me run away or cry. So far, I’d say I’m doing great. Also, he’s not a model anymore, and he hasn’t been a model for about six years. Your research skills are slipping. I’m just saying.”

  Spirit returning, but then, I’d already noticed that Karen rallied every time. She’d have made one hell of a soldier. Mental strength like steel.

  “Working in the family business now, are you?” Hemi asked me. “Clearly, if you’re doing this. Not so much business as recreation, I’d say.” After that, he asked Karen, “Why d’you think I told you I wouldn’t hire you at the company, and you’d need to find something else and make your own way instead? Because that’s not a good path, not until you’ve proved yourself. You’d never have known what you could do on your own, or that you’d earned your spot, if you’d taken the easy road. He hasn’t had to find that out, and that’s a problem.”

  “I asked you that, what, when I was eighteen?” Karen said. “You notice how I haven’t asked again in twelve years? I’ve made my own way, and I’m not interested in you hiring me. I don’t think you’re in the food business. And you just assumed again, by the way, about Jax, and were wrong again. You’re not doing well at all here.”

  I told Te Mana, “I’m not working at the moment. Recovering from an occupational injury, and I’m not sure what I’ll do next. You’re right that I’m not in my most stable place, but I’m still a bit unclear as to why that’s your concern. Surely Karen can decide for herself about the company she keeps.” And, I didn’t say, she’s getting too tired. I was going to say it in about thirty seconds, though.

  “Not doing too well at deciding, is she,” Te Mana said. “An occupational injury? She told Hope she was jumping off waterfalls with you. Doesn’t sound like it’s getting in your way much.”

  I took off my baseball cap, and his face went still. Then I lifted the leg of my jeans. “Staff sergeant, First New Zealand Special Air Services. Currently on medical leave. Future career prospects uncertain.”

  Karen said, “Annndddd . . . busted. It feels like I’ve waited all my life for this moment. Hemi Te Mana, absolutely wrong.”

  Karen

  Hemi had gone still, and I was coming down out of the red-mist zone and starting to realize what I’d just done. I had no idea what he’d say. What he’d do.

  Or, rather—I knew it wouldn’t be horrible, or that it wouldn’t be that way forever. Hope wouldn’t let it be horrible. When Hemi told her about this, and he would, she’d say the right thing. She’d explain, and because he loved her more than life, he’d listen.

  I couldn’t do any explaining, not anymore. I’d started to shake like I’d done with the chills, and things were going a little black around the edges. I put my hand out for my coffee, and knocked it over. My beautiful birthday mocha spilled out over the table, onto the stone terrace, and I let out a cry like a seagull deprived of a donut.

  Jax said, “That’s enough, I reckon. Let’s have you lie down.”

  “I really wanted that mocha.” I was having trouble with my eyes now, too. “It’s my . . . birthday, and I’m thirty, and . . .”

  I didn’t say the other thing. And I’ve lost control with Hemi. I’ve talked to him like I’m Hope, and I don’t know what’s going to happen with that. They’re my family. They’re all I’ve got. But they’re each other’s family first, and I might have just blown it, because I can never shut up.

  “I’ll get you another mocha,” Jax said. “I’m putting you to bed first, though.”

  “I’m not a child,” I said. “That was the whole point of my . . . speech.”

  “Got that, didn’t I. I’m guessing Hemi did, too. It was an awesome speech, but it didn’t do much to balance your electrolytes.” He was standing with me, practically holding me up, because things were going even darker, like a black curtain coming down over my vision. I was familiar with that curtain, and I didn’t want to be. I couldn’t stand that this was happening.

  Hope was coming out as we were coming in. I could only see the shape of her, practically running across the room, because I’d stopped being able to concentrate. She asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “A little crook, that’s all,” Jax said. “Too much excitement, I reckon.” And then I tipped over, because he’d picked me up again. I didn’t try to fight it this time. I just let the whole thing wash over me. Jax setting me down on the bed, pulling the throw over me. Hope saying, “I’ll go get her a glass of water.” Maia asking, “What’s wrong with Auntie Karen?” And Jax saying, “She needs a rest, that’s all. She was pretty ill.”

  I wanted to tell the kids I was OK. I needed to tell Hope so. I’d do that. In a minute.

  Jax

  She fell asleep fast. At first, I hovered between wanting to take her back to hospital, and knowing that was an overreaction. I may have checked her for fever, and I may have checked her pulse. I’d have done it more if her sister hadn’t been there, because, yes, Hope stayed.

  “You look tired yourself,” she said. “It sounds like it’s been a pretty crazy few days. I have to wonder how much you’ve even eaten, and I definitely wonder how much you’ve slept. Also, I need a sandwich fast—like right now—and if I stay here, you can go get us both one, and I can stay with Karen. I’ll ride with you to Koro’s—a bit later, Hemi, because I don’t think Karen should stay too long—and Hemi won’t even have to come back to get me. Easy.”

  “I’ll get the sandwich,” Hemi said. “The kids need to eat anyway. Want a chicken and veggie panini, sweetheart? Herb tea?” At her nod, his gaze swung to me. It was absolutely neutral. “Jax?”

  “Ham,” I said. “And a large flat white. Cheers. You could get Karen a new mocha as well, and maybe a sandwich, in case she wants it. All she’s had are the smoothies. Not much protein in those.” I considered reimbursing him, but abandoned the idea pretty smartly. I didn’t need another dick-measuring contest, especially when it came to who paid for his sister-in-law’s sandwich. He needed to do something for her right now, maybe, after what she’d said to him. Not easy to apologize. Easier to buy the lunch.

  “Ten minutes,” he said, gazed at Hope some more
, and asked me, “Got a biscuit? A packet of cheese?”

  “Uh . . . yeh,” I said. “Come with me.”

  Hope curled up in the chair in the corner of the bedroom, told the kids, “Go into the living room and wait for Daddy, please,” pulled her phone from her purse like this was all perfectly normal, smiled at me, and said, “Here’s my chance to sit in peace and answer my work emails. Secret agenda.”

  In the kitchen, Te Mana found a plate, arranged cheese-topped biscuits on it, poured a glass of orange juice, said, “One second,” and took it back into the bedroom. When he came back, he told me, “Pregnant,” and looked absolutely satisfied to be saying it.

  “Ah,” I said. “Congratulations.”

  He nodded. “Seems I may have been wrong about you as well.” He hesitated, and I thought I knew where Karen got her reluctance to say “sorry.” Except that Te Mana wasn’t actually her dad, or her brother. An influence, though? Clearly.

  “No worries,” I said, rescuing him from having to utter the dreaded word. “Reckon you had your reasons.”

  “Too right I did,”

  “What was that fella’s name again?” I asked. “Karen’s? In case I ever meet him.”

  “Not if I meet him first,” he said, like he knew exactly why I was asking. “Josh Ranfeld. Wanker.”

  “Daddy, that’s a bad word.” His youngest was leaning against his thigh, her arm wrapped around his leg. “You’re not s’posed to say bad words.”

  He picked her up and settled her on his hip. “You’re right. Let’s go get Mummy a sandwich, eh.”

  “And muffins,” the little girl said.

  “No,” Hemi said. “And lunch. Don’t want to spoil your appetite before we go to Koro’s. Not before the hangi.”

  “Plus Koro always has lollies,” she said. “In his pockets.”

  Hemi smiled. I hadn’t realized he could do it. “That’s a secret for the mokopuna. Don’t tell Jax. He may want to share.”

  She looked at me doubtfully, and I laughed and said, “Nah. You can have all the lollies.”

  “Daddy,” she said, staring at me wide-eyed, “that man has blue lines on his face.”

  The other two kids, who’d been sitting at the kitchen island, spinning idly around on the stools, stopped spinning, and Hemi said, “Not polite. We don’t talk about how people look. Tell him you’re sorry.”

  “No worries,” I said. “They’re scars, that’s all.”

  She studied me some more. She was cute, with a ponytail of curly brown hair, golden skin, big hazel eyes, and a rosebud of a mouth. Going to be a heartbreaker, it was clear. “Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry I said about the lines. Did you draw them on with a marker?”

  “No,” I said. “I got some cuts, and when my skin closed up, the scar was blue.”

  “Like magic?”

  “No,” the older girl said. “Like healing. Really?” she asked me. “They just ended up blue like that?”

  “Yeh,” I said. “It happens.”

  She got a faraway look, like she was considering researching the phenomenon. Karen all over again. In another minute, we were going to get into the bomb, and then the leg discussion. It wasn’t that I minded, exactly, not with kids. It got a bit boring, though. Hemi hadn’t said the “hero” word, at least. I’d hear it sometime today, though. That, I minded.

  “Come on,” Hemi told his kids. “Lunch.” He told me, “Ten minutes.”

  After a bit, I was alone with Hope. I checked on Karen again, and her sister looked me over and said, “Why don’t you take a couple hours’ break? I’m guessing you need it.”

  She didn’t say, You look like hell, but she may as well have. I hadn’t massaged my leg or got any exercise for days. The burning phantom-limb pain had woken me every hour or so during the night, and my stump was swollen enough that it had been hard to fasten the leg on this morning. I said, “I could do with a swim. Even more than lunch. I’ll take my phone, though, so you can ring me if you need me.”

  She handed over her phone without a word, and I punched my info in and handed it back, then rang up the Mount hot pools, booked a deep-tissue massage, and packed a bag. I told Hope, “Ninety-five minutes. If she’s worse, if you’re concerned, I can be back in five. I’ll be across the road.”

  Half an hour’s fast swim helped, ignoring the curious looks my leg earned me on another busy Saturday. The first five minutes were rough, but once I settled into it and started working out the tight places in my shoulders, things got better. When I’d showered and headed into a massage room, though, the remedial work began in earnest.

  “Ouch,” Joni, a brunette who’d seen me a few times, said, when she came into the room and checked out the leg. “You haven’t been looking after that.”

  “Life’s been complicated,” I said, and then I didn’t talk, because my face was stuck down in a hole, and the rest of me was getting tortured. She started out easy at first, but when she was working my back, I started to sweat, and when I’d rolled over and she got to the leg, I had to blow out the breaths.

  “I’m going easy,” she said, checking my face. “Let me know if it’s too much.” It was definitely too much, but it was also definitely necessary, so I didn’t let her know. She added, “Coming every day would be better. And working it for a good wee while twice a day yourself, if you can’t do that.”

  “Gotcha.” I looked at the ceiling and told myself, Breathe in. Breathe out. And then told myself again.

  Afterwards, I was glad I’d taken off the leg before I’d come, because I wouldn’t have got it back on. I took the crutches over to the shower, and then to the hot pool, lay in there, thought hazily that ice might be better than heat, and then that I didn’t care, because I needed this. In fact, not to put too fine a point on it, I fell asleep.

  I woke up with a start, accidentally slipped under the water, and got myself upright again. A beefy fella asked, “You doing OK there, buddy?” American, like Karen.

  Oh, God. Karen.

  I pulled myself out of the pool, and the fella averted his gaze. His wife looked for a horrified second, then did the same. I barely noticed. I was back in the changing room, grabbing my things, checking my phone—nothing—and crutching across the street and home.

  When I came in the door of the flat, Hope came out. “Sorry,” I said, breathing hard from my near-run. “How is she?”

  Hope’s eyes widened. She hadn’t seen me take the leg off before I’d left, because I’d done it in the guest bath. Clearly, Hemi hadn’t told her, and neither had Karen. She got her face under control and said, “Still sleeping. She’s not feverish, though.”

  “Geez,” I said, grabbing the towel from around my neck and giving my hair a scrub while I balanced on one foot. “It’s been nearly two and a half hours. Sorry.”

  She laughed. “I don’t mind. Mount Maunganui is one of my favorite places, and nobody’s saying ‘Mommy.’ You have no idea how refreshing that is. Hemi’s the one doing all the hard work. He’s at Koro’s already, shoveling dirt onto the pit for the hangi and no doubt building a new porch or something equally Kiwi and industrious. I’ve just been sitting on the terrace, looking at the sea and pretending to work. Possibly taking a nap. Go on and get changed. We’re fine.”

  I checked on Karen—turned onto her side with her hand under her cheek and looking peaceful, if pale—took my third shower of the day, and didn’t put my leg on. I’d prop the stump up instead for a bit, I decided, and give the swelling a chance to go down. I heated my cold panini in the microwave and headed outside, then went back for a glass of water. I could manage carrying things in one hand by using one crutch, but it meant more trips. Just one of the many things I’d had to get used to.

  When I was sitting down, grateful for the shade of the terrace and the cooling green of the Mount—I’d probably burned up a bit, after an unexpected half-hour in the spa bath and the sun—Hope put down her phone, on which she’d been typing, and said, “I didn’t realize you’d lost a leg. I wonder
ed, when you called about the massage. You didn’t seem like the massage type. Were you in the military? Hemi said you were a model.”

  “Still am,” I said. “In the military, that is, not a model anymore. On medical leave.” She’d seen the scars on my chest as well. They weren’t a secret, and Karen would have shared all of it eventually. Nobody would ever call her anything but “outspoken,” and the sisters might be opposites, but they felt close to me. Hope had planted herself in the room with Karen like it was the only place she wanted to be.

  I ate some of my sandwich, belatedly realizing how famished I was, and Hope looked out at the Mount and said, after a while, “I’m guessing it’s helpful to Karen that you’ve been injured. Not that I’m saying it’s good that you were injured, but it’s hard, when you’ve been through something so physically traumatic, to explain to somebody else what it’s like, or how it changes you. She seems so strong to other people. Physically and mentally. She is strong. Maybe she can let her guard down with you, though, because you get it.” She glanced over at me. “Forgive me if I’m assuming. She let you carry her. That normally involves a whole lot more protesting.”

  “You seem happier about that idea than your husband was,” I said.

  She laughed. A very pretty woman indeed, with a face like a flower and an air of serenity that was, again, the opposite of Karen. “Hemi’s protective. You could call it his defining characteristic. And he’s especially protective of—well, I was going to say Karen, but Karen and the kids, of course.”

  “And you.”

  “Oh, yeah.” She smiled again. “I still have to call him on it sometimes. Other times, to be honest, I just enjoy it.”

  “It’s seemed to me,” I said, feeling my way, “a bit . . . odd, though. That he’d have to be so protective of her.” Or that you would, I didn’t say. I was close to my sisters, but I wouldn’t have flown halfway around the world because one of them was ill. “She was fifteen, sixteen, she said, when he was first in her life, and she went off to Uni shortly after that, surely. She mentioned surgery before, and that her parents are dead. There are some things I don’t understand here. Or possibly everything.”