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I sniff and hug her. “I love you too.” Then I remember something, and dig a hand into my pocket. “I brought something for you.”
She lowers her arms. “Another present?”
“Not quite.” I hold the piece of brick out to her on my palm. “I took it from the wall outside Greta’s house.”
She stares at it, then takes it from me.
“This is a place where people come to say goodbye,” I tell her. “I thought you could throw it into the sea and say goodbye to your past.”
She turns it over in her fingers, then looks up at me with a smile. “Yes, I will.”
I help her to her feet, and we walk down the bank a little. “Will you do it for me?” she asks. “You’ll be able to throw it further.”
“If you like.”
She gives it back to me. I draw my arm back and throw it as hard as I can, and it sails up into the cloudy sky, then curves down into the white-topped waves.
She looks at me, her green eyes very light in the sun that’s peeking through the clouds.
“He ra ki tua,” I say in Maori. “Better times are coming.”
A tear runs down her cheek, but she wipes it away. “Happy New Year,” she whispers.
“Happy New Year, honey.”
She lifts onto her tiptoes and wraps her arms around my neck, and I kiss her, while the seagulls wheel overhead, and the summer breeze tugs at our clothes.
*
We spend New Year’s Eve in a tiny town called Ahipara, at the southern end of Ninety Mile Beach. We sit on the sand as the sun goes down, eating fish and chips so hot they burn our fingers, then go back to our bach—our Kiwi beach house—and make love in the overly soft bed, finishing just in time to see in the New Year.
Catie doesn’t talk much about what we discussed up in Cape Reinga, but there’s a sense of peace about her that wasn’t there before. As she prizes her independence above almost all things, the thought of having her own money has given her a financial stability of her own that she treasures. Saying a metaphorical goodbye to her past has helped her psychologically. And I think being married has given her emotional security. At last, she believes that I want to be with her, and our relationship has blossomed since we exchanged rings.
We take another few days to travel back to Auckland, and when we get there, we go to Huxley’s house to visit the two of them and the baby. We both have a cuddle of little Teddy, and then have the pleasure of watching Huxley singing to him as he walks around the room with his boy in his arms, while Elizabeth chats to Catie about the birth.
“You recommend fatherhood, then?” I ask as I go over to where Huxley’s standing by the window, looking out at the view of Auckland harbor.
“Ten out of ten,” Huxley says, bouncing from side to side as looks down at his son. “Mind you, I’ve only got one. Fuck knows how you’re going to cope with two.”
“Tell me about it. So how was the birth? Are you glad you were there?”
“I kept away from the business end, mainly because I didn’t want to embarrass myself by fainting. And then he was born, and the midwife lifted him up, and I saw some blood and thought oh jeez, I’m going to pass out…” His expression softens. “And then I looked at him, and it was like everything faded away. They took him to be cleaned and weighed while they sorted Elizabeth out, and I went with them and watched, and when they were done, they gave him to me all wrapped up, and suddenly it was just me and him, with the sun coming up. And I thought, this is my son. I’ve never felt so fucking proud. Like I’d won the Battle of Waterloo all on my own, you know?”
“Ah, stop. Jesus.” I sniff. “I keep tearing up lately. I thought it was only the girls who had the hormonal problems.”
“Oh, sweet summer child, no, no, no. You’ll be bawling like a toddler on a daily basis by the time the twins arrive.”
“Well, thanks for that.”
He chuckles. Then he kisses his son’s head. “Good luck,” he says. “It’s an amazing feeling, being a dad. I’m so glad you’ll get to experience it.”
*
After we leave them, we drive to the airport and drop off the car, then fly home. Catie’s now twenty-four weeks pregnant, and for the next eight weeks or so, she absolutely blooms. She settles into her role in the NASA workroom, and Richard Mason divulges that she’s helped them make a couple of important breakthroughs in the new batch of coding. She’s decided to wait to start her university studies until later in the year, as she doesn’t want to overload herself when the twins come, but she seems to be enjoying her role there.
Her money has come through, and although we have a joint account that I encourage her to use to get anything she needs, I know she’s been spending some of her own money, buying clothes and items for the babies.
She tells me that she got in touch with her friend Louise in Auckland, and that she wants to send her some money, and asks for the best way to do that. When I comment that Louise hasn’t bothered to call her at all since she’s been in Wellington, Catie says, “I knew she wouldn’t. You live day to day when you don’t have money. You can’t cope with the burden of worrying about someone else. The gift would be for the fact that she looked out for me for five years. She shared everything she had with me. I wouldn’t have made it without her.”
