Page 97 of Possession Under the Southern Stars

“Yeah. She wasn’t too happy about it, though. I’d do it, but I can see it driving a wedge between us, and I don’t want that right at the start of our relationship.”

“What’s the next step with the museum?”

“Whina said she has a few avenues to explore, I don’t know what she meant by that. She said to think about it, and she wants to meet on Monday.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re going to do?”

“Hallie mentioned crowdfunding. I think building up a Patreon program would take too long, but creating a Kickstarter campaign is a possibility. Doing some public fundraising. Hallie had lots of ideas, like holding weddings in the museum, or opening a themed restaurant. It all takes time, though, and investment to start, and first I need to pay for the west wing developments.”

“I might be able to round up some donations. If we could offer Whina a proposal—fifty thousand by mid-year, or something—she might be willing to give you a breather.”

“Maybe.” I blow out a breath. “Thanks for trying to help. I know I’ve let you down.”

“You haven’t let anyone down, Fraser. You work incredibly hard, and you’ve raised millions for that museum. You’re almost single-handedly responsible for its success, and for creating all those amazing exhibits. For funding archaeological digs across New Zealand. For recovering so many new artifacts that tell the story of our amazing country. Great men don’t become great because they’re skilled at avoiding life’s challenges. They deal with them when they arise, and overcome them, and move on.”

I study my hands. “Are you disappointed, though, that I don’t go to church anymore?”

He gives a long sigh. “Maybe, a little,” he says eventually. “I thought you might follow in my footsteps one day.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I thought you might have been a priest, actually. You’re a man with strong principles and a strict moral code. You have integrity and leadership skills. You could have risen high in the church.”

“I could never have been celibate.”

“Why do you think I stopped at being a deacon?”

We both laugh.

“Seriously, though,” he says, “I understand why all three of you found it so hard to keep going to church after Elora’s assault. There have been many events in my life that have made me question my faith. Many forests I’ve had to fight my way through. But I realize now that we all have to discover our own paths.”

He rests a hand on my back. “I’m sorry I’ve been hard on you. But you’ve grown up into a fine man, and I’m proud of you, son.”

“Are you trying to make me cry?”

He laughs, and we stand and exchange a manly bearhug.

“Come on,” he says kindly. “Mum’s making scones, judging by the smell. There’s nothing like warm scones with jam and cream to put you right.”

Privately, I think it might take a little more than baked goods to sort out everything in my life, but scones certainly aren’t going to make it worse.

We join the others, and we sit outside on the deck, the dogs at our feet, and talk long into the evening. Dad doesn’t mention the museum or Hallie, and neither do I, but my thoughts turn to her repeatedly as I try to work through the problem.

I want her, and I want my job, but I don’t know how to keep them both.

The others eventually go to bed. But I stay up late into the night, the dogs snoring at my feet, watching the stars wheel overhead in their ageless chase across the sky.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Hallie

On Saturday, my plane lands in Tauranga just before twelve.

I take an Uber out to the Williams’s house, arriving around 12:20. Isabel herself opens the door, which surprises me.

“Hello, Hallie,” she says, holding out her hand. I shake it, my gaze skimming over her. Today she’s wearing jeans and a white shirt. Her hair is pinned up, and she has big gold hoops in her ears. She looks wealthy but relaxed, and I’m relieved that she smiles at me as she moves back to let me pass her.

“I thought a butler was going to open the door,” I say with a laugh. “Like in Downton Abbey.”

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