Page 17 of Just Say Christmas
Literally a descendant of the sea, bred from generations of dwellers on the east coast and islands of the Far North, drawing sustenance from the salt water like you were still swimming in the womb. He’d couldn’t remember a time when he couldn’t swim, and he could barely remember when he couldn’t dive. Just the touch of cool water on his face lowered his heart rate, and the deeper he went and the longer he held his breath, the lower it got. He could swim with dolphins below the surface and feel their high-frequency clicks and vocalizations resonating in his body the way you couldn’t with scuba gear on. He couldn’t quite interpret their signals, but it was close enough.
When he did his visualization exercises before a match, it was the rush you got from going below the ten-meter mark that he imagined, not taking the ball perfectly in the lineout. He could take a breath on land, if his head was in the right space, and all but feel the mammalian dive reflex kicking in, the blood diverting itself to his heart and brain, his mind magically clearing, like he’d been born in the days when the earth had been covered with water.
Today, he needed all of that, whether he brought kai moana back with him or not. Though it would be better to bring the food home, even though the other fellas were out fishing from a boat, and if you went with somebody who knew what he was about, you could hardly keep from catching a snapper around Waiheke in December. Fishing wasn’t just for fun, though. It was for food. Bringing home a couple of big crays was like bringing home a paycheck, and he wanted to lift the meaty, succulent tail off the barbecue and have Ella know it had taken effort and skill to get it, not just dropping a line into the water, and that he’d done it to feed her.
Whatever was wrong, surely that would make it better. He hoped so, because otherwise, he was out of ideas. She’d been odd on the phone, and she’d been odd again getting off the plane. She’d kissed him, and he’d kissed her back. When they’d got to Marko’s, Caro had gone inside, but she’d stayed out in the car with him and kissed him a few more times. When he’d asked, “All right?” as he smoothed a hand over her hair, her cheek, needing to touch her, she’d nodded and said, “Good. But I need to go inside. I need to do this. Go in and see Marko and Nyree, all that. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Which had been absolutely unsatisfactory last night, and still felt unsatisfactory today. Hewasgoing to talk to her tonight, and never mind what else was going on. It might be Marko and Nyree’s party, but there were a dozen people celebrating it with them. He and Ella could disappear for a while.
Now, he asked Koti, “Ready to go? Feeling OK? No lightheadedness?” Important to check, always, to know your partner and his limits. The rush you got from freediving was also its edge, and the best dives were the ones you came back from.
“Yeh,” Koti said. “Though I’m getting a bit turned around down there.”
“Never mind,” Tom said. “Keep an eye on me. I’ve got it mapped.” Checking the area off against landmarks on shore, and the more useful points of notice under the water, so you didn’t swim in circles. Another thing he’d learned early.
The water was cooler here than in the Far North, but just as clear, and he kicked his way through the kelp forest with ease, the extra-long fins on his feet scissoring lazily through the water. Farther out to sea, boats were bobbing at anchor, their owners off in their dinghies, sitting in bars right now, eating fish that somebody else had caught and ignoring the bounty below their keels. The crays liked to hide in shallower water at this time of year, so that was where he was, too.
He brushed his way through the last of the kelp and reached the rocky outcrop he’d seen on the last dive. Andthere.The flicker at the edge of his vision. A twitch of antennae. He pointed it out to Koti, then dropped a weight to mark the spot, kicked his way back to the surface, and waited for the other man.
Koti surfaced and said, “You saw something.”
“Yeh. And where there’s one, there are more. We’re bringing cray home with us tonight, cuz.” He felt the familiar exhilaration, and welcomed it. When he was swimming back to the boat, then letting Koti take over the driving, heading to the house? He’d think about the rest of it then. He’d make a plan.
* * *
VICTORIA
Halfway through Saturday’s events, and Victoria was doing all right. She’d had a little blip there yesterday, and then some trouble sleeping, but that had been bound to happen the first time she saw Kane, and if she had circles under her eyes—well, that’s what makeup was for, right? She even knew how to use it now.
Yes, they’d be staying in the same house tonight, but so would nearly a dozen other people, and it had been eighteenmonths.Anyway, she’d be busy with arrangements, and blending into the background. That was definitely the plan. Or hiding. Hiding was good. Fortunately, it was a big house.
A hen weekend was meant to be for just the women, hence the name, but somehow, tonight’s part had turned into a coeducational affair, and her spreadsheets had gone from complicated to color-coded at least eight months ago. How did women who did all these girly things find time to do anything else? Fixing her hair was bad enough, but she kept finding out more things she was meant to take care of, wedding-attendant-wise.
Make cute signs, for example, not that she’d done it. If people actually needed signs around the party house or at the wedding to tell them it was all about Living, Laughing, and Loving, pointing the way to the food, or informing them of the dates on Marko and Nyree’s romantic timeline, they were out of luck.
What were Koti James’s jobs as best man? Minimal in comparison, she’d bet anything. Show up at the right time with the rings and the groom, mostly. Meanwhile, hers had been endless. She’d hosted a bridal shower, for one thing, which had been excruciating. You had to choose a theme, and have games, and act enthusiastic about them, and serve the right foods. She’d got that more or less right, doing nutritious ancient-grain-based salads and decorated cupcakes instead of pizza and avocado dip, but she’d not only neglected to wrap her gift in bridal-shower-themed paper, she also hadn’t included a tasteful card, and she hadn’t written anything at all in gold ink. She’d put a tablecloth on the gifts table, but it had been plain white and made of paper, and so had the serviettes and plates, because they were cheaper that way and she was just going to bin everything afterwards anyway. The table also hadn’t had a sign that said “Gifts” on it. Her shower had earned a sixty-percent mark at best. Barely passing.
After discovering her shortcomings, she’d done more research, and she was pretty confident that everything was taken care of. Weekend in paradise, ha, but all the same—she’d chartered the minibus. She’d booked the water taxi that had taken the female half of the party out to Waiheke Island, the snorkeling tour, the wine tasting and lunch, the spa, and the house, and handled all of tonight’s activities as well, once they joined the boys. Dinner, and breakfast, and so forth, with a little input from Koti. She’d thought of almost all of it herself, though, and then she’ddoneit. Surely that was enough. It had better be enough.
Some things, though, you couldn’t plan ahead of time. Like this moment, when she was facing a woman named Christina who could have made a judge quail. She was wearing a white lab coat that made her look like a dermatologist in a TV advert, although she was actually an aesthetician, according to her name tag. The spa was all blinding creamy-white, high-end surfaces, soothing violin music, and expensive toiletries packaged in gold and silver, and the whole thing would have been a bridge too far if Victoria hadn’t booked that wine-tasting, and taken advantage of it.
“You’ll want a hair mask and hydration facial, surely, if you’re going to be in the wedding party,” Christina, whose dark hair was scraped back into a severe knot, like beauty was Serious Business, told her.
“Just the manicure and pedicure are fine,” Victoria said, reminding herself that she was a professional woman with a CV full of professional accomplishments. “I have a few things to do. Spreadsheets and so forth.” She’d never had a pedicure until a couple months ago. She doubted her dad, a Christchurch cop who’d risen to the rank of Inspector while raising her with maximum efficiency and minimum frills, even knew that pedicures existed. If he did, he’d think they were unnecessary and extravagant. Which they were, but they’d also turned out to be a major guilty pleasure. Just having her feet in a massaging tub was enough hedonism for now, though. She didn’t need to be lying back with cucumber slices on her eyes, or whatever it was. She needed to pay attention to the timetable and the plan, and she needed access to her phone for that.
Christina’s nostrils pinched a little, and she said, in much the same way a mother would talk to a recalcitrant toddler, enforced patience in full view, “We really do prefer that you allow yourself to put away your phone and let yourself be pampered whilst you’re here. You need it, if you don’t mind my saying. Red hair requires extra protection, and your skin is so dry, it’s frankly screaming for rescue.”
Brilliant. Now herskinwas bad? Did she need another thing to feel self-conscious about? She was still groping for an answer when Kate James said from the chair beside her, “Isthatwhat that is? I can hear it all the way over here. Sort of a teeny-tiny screech. Nah, your skin looks great. I wishmyskin looked that good. Why does nobody tell you that pregnancy causes acne? Only two months into this one, and I’m already seriously rethinking my life.”
Emma Wilkinson, who was on Victoria’s other side, looking like the ultra-feminine petite blonde she was, which was hardly intimidating at all, said in her sweet voice, “You can do a lot of this at home, but the spa treatments can be extra-nice, if you want to do them. If there’s something you need to take care of or pay attention to, maybe I can help with it, though I won’t be as efficient as you, I’m sure. I’m up to date on my facials.” She smiled. “But only because I love them.”
“I wish you wouldn’t be so nice,” Kate said, “so I could hate you,” and Victoria laughed out loud. It was so exactly what she’d been thinking. “You and Nina and Josie are the worst,” Kate went on. “Good thing they couldn’t come today, or I’d be slinking away in shame, or putting a bag over my head. I don’t win Miss AmericaorMiss Congeniality. I fail as a rugby WAG once again. Sad.”
Christina, meanwhile, gazed upon Emma’s adorableness like she’d drawn fourth prize in a three-way contest, and Victoria said, “Well, why not,” possibly just so she could close her eyes and not have to observe Christina’s torment. “If my skin is screaming, put it out of its misery. Also, I snorkeled today, which probably destroyed my cuticle or something, so let’s go for broke with the hair, too. Otherwise, it may be so disgusting, I’ll have to have it shaved off. Or waxed. I tried waxing recently. I’m not doingthatagain.”
It was the wine, probably.
Oh, well. She was among friends. More or less. For now.
