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We smile at each other. “I’m glad she’s okay.” I rest a hand on my bump. “It was good to see the way they were so calm and happy when she went into labor. It makes me feel a lot better.”
“That’s good. Are you worried about being in pain?”
I think about it, then shake my head. “Oddly, no. Women have given birth for hundreds of thousands of years, and lots of them have done it without pain relief, at home, or even alone. I’m so lucky—I’ll have people to tell me what to do, drugs to help with the pain, and I’ll have you.” I smile. “I’m more worried about being out of control, and being ignorant. I want to be like Elizabeth, and know everything that’s happening, so I can make decisions about the baby and the birth myself.”
“That’s fair. And in that case, we’ll make sure we’re informed. We’ll go to the antenatal classes, and we’ll read all the magazines together.”
“I like that idea,” I tell him. All I can do is be prepared. And with Saxon by my side, I feel confident I can go into this armed to the teeth and ready for battle.
*
We get ready and pack, Saxon settles the bill, and we pick up the car he’s hired for the week, a smart, brand-new Range Rover. Then he takes State Highway one, over Auckland Harbour Bridge, heading north.
I enjoyed my trip down to Wellington on the coach, but this is so much better. It’s just me and Saxon, and he links his phone to the car by Bluetooth, and then pulls up a driving playlist he’s put together for the journey. There are lots of ‘anthems’—Bruce Springsteen’sBorn to Run, Rihanna’sShut Up and Drive, Wilson Pickett’sMustang Sally, Lynyrd Skynyrd’sSweet Home Alabama, Queen’sDon’t Stop Me Now… they keep coming, and the two of us sing until we’re hoarse, belting out the lyrics.
When we pass the town of Warkworth, the traffic begins to ease, and it gets even lighter when he turns off State Highway One, taking the road to Mangawhai Heads.
“First stop,” Saxon tells me.
It turns out we’re staying at this small seaside resort, spending the night in a lodge with spectacular sea views. It’s a self-contained apartment, with white walls, pine furniture, light-blue and light-green cushions and drapes, and driftwood-and-shell mobiles.
We spend a few hours resting on the kingsize bed, dozing for a while in the warm summer sunshine, while the smell of the sea drifts through the open windows, and the breeze stirs the white voile curtains.
When we wake, Saxon catches up on his emails while I sit outside on the deck and read. When we went to dinner with Kip and Alice, I told her that I’ve never read much, but that I wanted to get more into it. After asking me a few questions, and learning that I like stories about families, while also being interested in time travel and the supernatural, she suggested Daphne Du Maurier’sThe Loving Spirit. Saxon ordered it for me, and I’m really enjoying the story about the four generations of the Coombe family, set in Cornwall, England. The first protagonist, Janet Coombe, longs to go to sea, and it seems appropriate to read about her and her son now, looking out at the ocean.
At six, we head to the nearby restaurant which is quiet and simple, and I’m more than happy to try their recommended hoki-in-a-bun with homemade steak fries, followed by apple pie and custard.
After we’ve eaten, we go for a long walk along the beach, walking hand in hand along the sand and talking, while the sun sinks slowly into the hills behind us, and the sea darkens. There’s a large sand dune area filled with birds, and Saxon points out fairy terns, New Zealand dotterels, and oystercatchers with their long, bright-orange bills.
Eventually we head back to our lodge. We’re both tired after our long walk, and Saxon pulls me into his arms, then falls asleep quickly, his breaths whispering over my neck and ear where he’s cuddled up close behind me.
I lie there thinking about our day for a while. I haven’t been able to truly explain to him how amazing it’s been, just being with him, by the seaside, talking, getting to know one another. He’s always kind and gentle, but today he’s been even more attentive, giving me constant hugs and kisses. I know he feels guilty and ashamed about not believing me when I told him about my past.
At one point, on our way back, after the sun had set, he told me, “I want to give you the world, the moon, and the stars in the sky.” I poked him and told him to stop being soppy, but his words touched my heart. I’m truly beginning to think he loves me, and I know I’m as guilty as he is at not believing him when he first told me. We’re all the product of our own experiences. All we can do is listen, and learn, and try to adapt.
Eventually, I fall asleep, and for the first night since I met him, I don’t have a single bad dream.
*
The next day, we get back in the car and head north again.
It’s getting warmer, and it’s a lot more humid up here than it is in Wellington. Saxon drives up the coast past Bream Bay, and we stop in the large town of Whangarei for some lunch down by the quayside. Afterward, we head north again, and he takes the slow, windy coastal road all the way to Russell in the Bay of Islands.
Our social studies lessons at school covered some New Zealand history, so I know this was once the capital of the country, and called Kororareka, which means ‘little penguin’. It was a whaling town, but now it’s a small, charming seaside village. We’re staying the night in a hotel called The Duke of Northumberland. A sign out the front says it’s been here since the 1830s. Once again, it’s only a short walk to the beach.
“I’m just going to pick up a few things in town,” he says as I start unpacking. “Do you want anything?”
“Could you get me some more antacids please?” Heartburn has been plaguing me at night.
“Okay.” He stops in the doorway. “By the way, I’m taking you somewhere special tonight. I thought you might want to wear your new dress.”
My eyebrows rise. “Ooh, okay, thank you.”
“Nothing to be nervous about,” he states. His lips curve up, and then he heads out.
Puzzled, and a little nervous despite his assurances, I take a shower, then slowly get ready for dinner. My new dress is so pretty, white with small dark-orange flowers that match my hair color, and I’ve also bought a new pair of sandals to match. I decide to leave my hair down, and twist the sides, holding them back with a clip that bears a white flower. Finally, I apply some light makeup, wanting to wow him.
I know he’s back because he called out when he returned, so I go out of the bathroom hesitantly, and walk out to where he’s sitting on the deck, reading. He glances up, does a lovely double take, then puts down his book and gets to his feet.
