Page 14 of A Wolf in the Garden

“It’s not Mum’s fault. She worked hard, there’s just shit pay in her career, and she was paying off the mortgage, back then.” I sound defensive.

“I know. I didn’t mean that. I’m not judging. I just wish… I wish things could have been easier for you, in the months when we weren’t around.”

“Hmmm.” The framing of him and his family as my saviours from poverty for two months of every year leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but I swallow it back because part of me thinks it’s true, that is what they were.There’s that whakama again.I don’t like that I feel a strange sense of guilt over the fact that I ate their food, slept in their beds, and went on excursions with them, all without paying a cent. Ishouldn’tfeel guilty. I was just a kid at the time.

“I didn’t hang out with you guys because of the money.”

Van’s hand catches mine again in a tight grasp, his eyes full of intense sincerity. “Hey. I didn’t say that. I’ve never thought that, okay? I’ve never thought that, Lacey has never thought that, Mom has never thought that about you.”

Being near Van again like this is bringing out some sort of emotional overload in me. I nod, ignoring the burning sensation at the back of my throat.Do not cry. Do not cry.

“The bread board and the cheese platter!” the waitress announces, and I yank my hand out of his clasp, keeping my mouth stuffed full of food until he shifts the conversation to a safer topic.

* * *

I’m almost out the door of the vineyard when Van says the one thing that’s guaranteed to make me cry. As I turn to say goodbye to him, hovering on the threshold of the brick archway, his big hand lands on my shoulder.

“I was going to track you down, once I got settled in. That had been my plan, before I knew you lived here on Motuwai. I was going to track you down. To say hello. And… and to apologise for everything.”

This is not the conversation I want to have right now. I’ve done well today, to keep the sense of hurt and betrayal at bay. To hold my emotions in. To keep it professional. To act like I belong here, as someone running my own business, as someone with professional knowledge. I’ve done well, but he’s going to unravel everything all at once.

“You don't need to apologise.” My voice is small, and I take a half step back, his hand dropping away.

“Yes I do.”

I can’t make eye contact with him. I stare at the brick pattern of the wall as I speak. “You were grieving,” I whisper. I know he can hear me perfectly. My breath catches in my throat, and I force myself to say the words I need to in order to end this conversation quickly. “I never… I never held any anger towards you. It… the way things ended; it wasn't your fault.”

He is silent for a long time, waiting until I finally look at his face before speaking again.

“Just because the circumstances were devastating… it doesn't make it okay how I treated you,” he tells me. “Ellie, I am so incredibly sorry for hurting you the way I did.”

I can feel that stab of hurt as fresh as if it were yesterday, those wordsI never loved youringing in my ears. There’s that tell-tale sting at the back of my eyes, but I am determined not to cry about this. Not today. Not here. Not when I’ve literally just agreed to a four-month project with him. “Maybe we can talk about it some other time?” I suggest. I know my face is screwed up, on the brink of a full on ugly cry, but I hold it in.I don’t want to give him my tears today.

He looks torn, his face full of remorse.

“Of course.”

I remain frozen for a moment, because although hearing him apologise brings up so many awful feelings, now that it’s floating between us, part of me won’t let it go until I’ve said my piece. “I loved Jenny, too,” I say, and I do begin to cry. I can’t stop the tears or the words at this point. “I just need you to know that. I grieved for her too. I’m not saying it to compete with you, I know she was your sister but —”

“Ellie,” Van whispers, eyes growing red with moisture.

“I just need you to know I cared somuch, and I wasn’t even allowed to say goodbye,” I continue through gritted teeth, swiping at the tears on my cheeks. “Fuck. Forget that last bit. That’s not on you. It’s not —”

“Ellie,” Van interrupts, his voice sounding as hollow as I feel. “I know.” The look he gives me can only be described as numb, and I know he feels the same emptiness that comes with grief. It doesn’t matter how much time passes; it still hits the same when it does. You just learn to live with it better, learn to pretend that everything is okay as life moves on around you.

I shake my head. “I really, really wanted to get through this without crying,” I say, gesturing between us. “Because I’ve beengood. I’ve… I’vethrived, once I…”Once I got over you.

“I know you have. What you have achieved, it’s amazing. Truly.”

I snort bitterly. I’m a small fry compared to all of his business endeavours, and he knows it. “I need to get going.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to drive when you’re upset, I could —”

“Evander, I need to go. I’ll email you through the proposed design by the end of the week.” My tone doesn’t broker any arguments.

“Take your time.”

“It’ll be with you by the end of the week, the same as for any other client.” I see the boundary I set register with him in the way his lips press into a thin line. He is my client. We have a business transaction to complete. I don’t want things to get complicated.

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