AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“How much is overqualified when it comes to giving kids the best start in life?”
“Ah, so you want to work in developing the system behind early childhood education?”
“No. I want to help them learn to use a spoon and knives and forks, and how to cut stars out of yellow paper, and pretend to be princesses who fly on dragons and hunt for treasure in the playground. I want to help them learn their ABCs and 123s and colour pictures and craft houses out of egg cartons.”
Cress hooks an arm around his. “You’re very sweet. You could have all of that when you have your own kids, you know. You should think about other ways you can help. Something that pays better, too.”
“Ethan doesn’t care about money,” I murmur.
She looks over her shoulder at me. “That’s because he has it. He’ll be glad he has a business degree when all the financial responsibilities of a family start flooding in.”
“You sound like his dad.”
Ethan’s frown has deepened. “I understand living and raising a family takes careful financing, but the assumption here is that it has to be me who’s the breadwinner and that I have to live lavishly. Perhaps I’d like to be a stay-at-home dad and have my partner bring in the money? Or we split things down the middle?”
“You’d like being a kept husband?” she asks, cocking her head. She seems intrigued by the idea.
Ethan bends down toward her. “I’d like being an early childhood teacher.”
Her laughter is sweet and Ethan smiles, and it’s official. I despise her.
A strange keening moan sounds around us and ahead, Rush trips over a rock and hops about hissing. Maria steers him to a nearby bench and kisses his cheek. “Let it rest a bit, you’ll be good.”
The world is starting to sway a little, but I plonk the bourbon next to Rush and examine his foot. It’s definitely not broken. But some tape might be needed.
“Oh, Ford and I’ll rush back to the house and find some.”
Rush grimaces. “In the bathroom cupboard. It’s bright pink, you can’t miss it.”
Maria charges off and Ford practically skips after her, their whispering footsteps mixing with a loud, melancholic whistling.
“What is that sound?” Cress asks Rush.
“It used to terrify me when I was a kid. But it’s just the wind in the trees.” He points toward a gap in the poplars lining the path. A hill of trees shivers in the distance. “We call them the wailing woods.”
“That sounds delightful.” Cress grabs Ethan’s hand. “I’m checking them out. Come with me?”
Ethan isn’t so besotted he forgets his fear of the dark. “Is that . . . such a good idea?”
“It’ll be fun,” she says, tugging him.
I jump to my feet. “I’ll come with you.”
Cress doesn’t look so thrilled with that idea, but I don’t care because Ethan’s relieved grin washes through me, warmer than sunshine.
“And leave me here alone?” Rush says, his expression sad but accepting. Like he’s used to being left behind.
I grip my flashlight and re-grip it, then offer it to Ethan. “You’ll be fine together. I’m staying here with Rush.”
Ethan grabs the light, his fingers momentarily around mine, and he squeezes. “That’s really nice of you.”
When it’s just Rush and me, I bump his shoulder with mine. “Do you, like, notice Maria’s always hanging out with Ford?”
His shoulders slump. “I think she’s trying to make me jealous.”
“Jealous?”
“She asked about our relationship a few months ago. About where we were heading. I think I get what she’s trying to show me.”
That they’re growing apart? That it’s time to move on?
Rush sighs.
I lift the bottle. “Bourbon?”
We take turns with it.
I keep staring toward the wailing woods. “God they’re taking a long time.”
Rush looks away from the path leading to his house and takes an extra-long chug. “We’re waiting. We aren’t great judges of time. Ten seconds feels like a minute.”
I count to ten. Sure enough, it’s too bloody long.
Rush laughs and presses the bottle to my chest. “This has a way of speeding things up.”
He’s right.
By the time Ford and Maria arrive back, we’re singing our lungs out, giggling between verses. I’m standing on the bench, arms flung wide. Rush is hugging my leg like a cuddle toy.
“Pokarekare ana—”
“Oh. My. God,” Maria says, shaking her head and all that red hair. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
“The day what?” I snort.
She whips out her phone. “You’ll thank me for this one day. Continue.”
I take another swig and throw my arms out again, the liquid in the bottle sloshing about. I throw my head back and sing with everything I’ve got. The first verse and the chorus again, the second.
“Tuhituhi taku reta . . .” I have written my letter.
This is a love song that speaks to me.
I especially love the bit about love never being dried up by the sun. Makuku tonu i aku roimata e. It will always be wet with tears.
