Page 118 of Under Southern Stars
Madison falls into step beside me as we approach the guest house. “That was amazing,” she says, her eyes bright with excitement. “Did you see how close they came? And Jack knows so much about them.”
“He does,” I agree.
“He’s different here,” she observes, with that perceptive insight that sometimes catches me off guard. “But also the same, you know? Like, he still explains things the same way he did at home.”
Home. The word sparks an ache in my chest. Home feels very far away right now, not just in distance but in time. The life we’d built there—the routines, the comfortable patterns, the growing relationship with Jack—seems to belong to another version of reality.
“Yes,” I say finally. “He does.”
Madison studies my face in the dim light. “Are you guys going to be okay?”
The simple question holds such weight. “I don’t know, sweetheart.” It is the most honest answer I could give. “It’s complicated.”
“Because he didn’t tell you about all this?” She gestures vaguely at the estate around us.
“Partly.”
“But it’s still him,” she insists. “Just with…more stuff.”
If only it were that simple. “There’s a difference between having things and hiding things,” I try to explain. “It’s not about the money, Madison. It’s about trust.”
She nods slowly. “I guess that makes sense.” After a moment, she adds, “But I still like him. Even if he should have told us.”
“I’m glad.” And I am. Whatever happens between Jack and me, I am grateful Madison hadn’t been deeply hurt by his deception.
As we reach the guest house, I turn for one last look at the main estate. Jack stands on the path to his cottage, watching us from a distance. When he sees me looking, he raises a hand in the briefest of waves before turning away.
Inside, as Madison gets ready for bed, I find myself thinking about kiwis—stubborn, improbable birds that couldn’t fly but had somehow survived millions of years. Birds that moved between nests rather than building new ones when threatened.
There is a metaphor in there somewhere, but I am too exhausted to untangle it.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
SOPHIA
“Milford Sound,” Emma announces at breakfast, sliding a brochure across the table toward Madison. “One of the most spectacular fjords in the world. Jack’s arranged a scenic flight and cruise for today.”
My head snaps up. Jack hadn’t mentioned this to me. He hadn’t been at breakfast, his absence a heavy presence in itself.
Madison grabs the brochure eagerly. “Oh my God, Mom, look at these waterfalls! Can we go? Please?”
Emma glances my way, her expression carefully casual but her eyes watchful. “Jack thought you might appreciate seeing it before you leave. It’s about a five-hour drive each way, but the flight’s only forty-five minutes. Much less…confined.”
I understand the subtext. Jack is adapting the original plan to respect my need for space. A short flight rather than ten hours in a car together.
“I’m going,” Madison declares before I can respond. “Emma’s coming too.” She looks at me hopefully. “You’ll come, right, Mom? It’s supposed to be, like, the most beautiful place in New Zealand.”
Part of me wants to refuse, to maintain the distance I’d established. But I’d come all this way. Missing Milford Soundbecause of personal turmoil seems foolish, especially when Jack is clearly making an effort to be considerate.
“Of course I’ll come,” I say, forcing a smile. “When do we leave?”
“The flight’s at ten,” Emma replies. “Jack will meet us at the airstrip in Queenstown.”
As promised, Jack is waiting beside the small aircraft when we arrive at the Queenstown Airport. He looks tired, shadows under his eyes suggesting he’d slept as poorly as I had. He greets Madison warmly but maintains a respectful distance from me.
“It’s an eight-passenger plane,” he explains, gesturing to the sleek white aircraft. “But there are only six of us today, including the pilot.”
Madison bounces excitedly. “I call window seat!”
