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Oh. Marko was saying, “My grandmother’s pretty crook. Down in Tekapo. That’s—”
“I’m from Otago,” Luke reminded him. Tekapo. Barely a dot on the map in southern Canterbury, but a wilder, more scenic place it was hard to find. The Mackenzie Country. The high country, in the shadow of Aoraki Mount Cook, beside a glacial lake of an astonishing cloudy turquoise. Barren, some would say, but a place where your soul could find peace if you were a quiet man. An Otago man, and somehow, his dad notwithstanding, Paris notwithstanding, he was still that.
He thought about that, because he wasn’t sure what was coming next.
“Oh. Right.” Marko laughed. “Sorry. Of course you are. Things are a bit fraught at the moment. Anyway—the flash wedding in Northland’s out, and we’re doing it at my parents’ instead, so my grandmother can be there. Much smaller group, obviously, mostly family, and whatever we can cobble together for the rest of it. Hoping you can still come, because it’d mean a lot to Nyree. It’ll mean last-minute bookings, of course, and we don’t know yet where everybody will sleep. Not going to be much accommodation available just before Christmas, so it’s likely to be a tent. Fair warning. Sheep farm, also, though you won’t have to sleep with them.”
“OK,” Luke said. He was standing at the edge of the patio, looking at the ducks on the pond. A mum, followed by her babies. Calm on the surface, and paddling like mad underneath. A bit like him.
“Good,” Marko said.
“What can I do to help?” Luke asked.
Marko exhaled. “Round up the drink, maybe. My mum will have the food sorted, she says. She’ll borrow chairs from every neighbor around, and my family do music, so we’re good there. I haven’t rung Kane yet, but Nyree’s probably talked to Victoria, as she’s the maid of honor. Not sure, honestly.”
“I’ll ring him,” Luke said. “We’ll bring the drink. Just tell me what time the thing starts, and how many people. Beer, wine, champagne, fizzy stuff, water. About like that?”
“Yeh. Thanks,” Marko said.
“Your grandmother OK?”
Marko exhaled. “Not sure. Pneumonia, and she’s old. I didn’t know what to do, tell you the truth. Nyree said, though …” He stopped, and Luke thought his voice might not be entirely steady when he went on. “That what matters is that we get married with the people we care about around us. That the rest of it was just a party.”
“Nyree’s all right,” Luke said.
“That’s why I’m marrying her,” Marko said, which made sense.
Luke hesitated, then said it. “Only thing—I was thinking I might come with Hayden, as you gave me a plus-one. If you don’t have room, though—”
“Long as you don’t mind sharing that tent,” Marko said. “But I assume that’s OK.” Not sounding fussed about it.
Harden up and say it. “My dad could hear about me, one way or another, and I don’t want to spoil your day. Koti James knows, and he’s your best man, I hear. Kane, too, obviously, though he’s not going to talk. But if it’s small, there’ll be no avoiding Grant, and who knows what Nyree will decide it’s good to say.”
Marko actually laughed. “You’re not wrong. Never mind. He can choose which one of us to hate more, that’s all. Spoilt for choice, eh. Also, Kane will be there, and Rhys and Zora are still coming. Zora’s doing the flowers. Again, smaller scale, but Nyree wants flowers.”
“Yeh,” Luke said. “She’s a colorful person.”
“Too right. So that’s reinforcements, possibly, as Rhys Fletcher may be the only man who can shut Grant up. He shut Hayden’s dad down pretty well the other night, and he’s an arrogant bastard.”
“Grant doesn’t much care if there’s an audience,” Luke said. “Or that it’s an occasion.”
“Mate,” Marko said. “I played for him for almost ten years. He can’t be worse than I’ve already seen. Anyway, who bloody cares? It’s my wedding day. Nothing he does is going to spoil that.”
When Hayden rang off, Luke was still on the phone, his back turned. Hayden couldn’t read that back, and when Luke rang off and walked toward him, he couldn’t read his face, either.
“Interesting news,” Hayden said, as soon as Luke sat down again. “Seems I’m going to be a wedding celebrant. Fortunately, I know how.”
Luke stared at him. “What?”
“Nyree and Marko,” Hayden said. “Oh—wedding’s changed. It’s going to be in Tekapo.”
“I know,” Luke said. “Just got off the phone with Marko. But you’re—”
“Yeh,” Hayden said. “A celebrant. Hopefully I can remember my lines by then. Or even read. Otherwise, you’ll have to hiss my cues at me like a prompter in a bad grammar-school play.” He felt a bit giddy. That could just be concussion, of course.
“Why are you a wedding celebrant?” Luke asked.
“Because when the law changed, not everybody would marry the queer folk. I realize I’m not exactly an advert for wedded bliss, but I am a lawyer, and I do have some friends, so I decided I could marry them. Well, not marry them, but officiate. I’m not a polygamist, no worries.”
