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I’m not stupid, I know it’s not always going to be like this. Life isn’t a fairy tale. There’ll be ups and downs. Problems to work through. Having a baby is going to be hard, and having twins is going to be harder. We still don’t know each other very well, and I’m sure we’ll surprise each other, irritate each other, and frustrate one another.
But for now, I’m happy, which is an emotion I’m not used to feeling. And even if it only lasts for one month, one week, or one day, I’ll consider myself blessed.
*
Gradually, we slip into a routine, fitting around each other, and getting to know one another. He’s not perfect, but he’s damn close. His main fault is his ability to get distracted—he’s not a great timekeeper, because when he’s working he forgets everything else. In the office, he has Janine to keep him on task; at home, I gently remind him when there’s something we need to do, and he seems grateful for that. He never gets angry or frustrated with me, which I love. Even when I’m irritable—because I’m feeling uncomfortable or tired—he’s patient and considerate, and seems to enjoy finding ways to distract me from whatever’s bothering me.
He’s generous—he sends me shopping with Kennedy for maternity clothes, and he seems genuinely thrilled when I come back with an array of tops, trousers, skirts, and underwear. Especially the underwear, which he demands I model for him that night.
He’s also exceptionally loving, and for that I’m very grateful. We make love most nights, unable to keep our hands off each other. And afterward, we cuddle up, which is almost as wonderful as the sex itself, as I finally understand what the word cherished means.
We’ve been living together for just over a week when around eleven a.m. Joop answers the phone in the middle of the NASA workroom and says, “Catie, Saxon wants to see you.”
I stop in the middle of typing in a complicated passage of C++ and say, “What, now?”
“Yeah. Maybe he wants a quick…” His voice trails off as Richard Mason glares at him. “Chat,” Joop finishes lamely.
Giving him a wry look, I head through the offices and go into Janine’s office.
“Hey, Catie,” she says, “go straight in. He’s waiting for you.”
“Thank you.” I walk into his office and find him at his desk, not on his computer for a change, just sitting there, looking at his phone.
“Here she is,” he says, gesturing for me to sit in front of his desk. “Catie, William Egerton is on speakerphone.”
I inhale—I know that’s Neal’s lawyer friend.
“Hello, Catie,” William says. He sounds like an older man, with a rather stern voice.
“Hello,” I say. I look at Saxon; he’s resting an elbow on the arm of his seat, his fingers on his lips. I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
“I was just explaining to Saxon that I called Hooper & Sons and spoke to Charles Hooper himself. First, Charles would like to apologize if Dick Ellingham upset you in any way, and he’s going to write to you to say the same. It wasn’t his intention. He was hired by another law firm in Dublin, Ireland, to find your whereabouts and report back.”
My jaw drops for the second time. “Dublin?” I meet Saxon’s eyes. He raises his eyebrows.
“That’s all we know right now,” William says. “Charles wouldn’t tell me any more. Saxon has briefed me on your background, that your mother was originally from Ireland and moved to Christchurch in her twenties, and that she passed away in the 2011 earthquake. If I had to guess, I’d say a relative from Ireland is trying to find you. But Saxon has made it very clear to me, and I’ve made it very clear to Charles, that on no account is your location to be revealed to this person or people, whoever they are. Everything is to be conducted through lawyers in the first instance until we can work out exactly what they want.”
Saxon leans his chin on his hand. I can see by the look in his eyes that he’s told William if anyone wants to get to me, they’re going to have to go through him first.
“Okay,” I say. “What happens next?”
“Unfortunately the system works slowly, so I don’t know when we’ll hear more, but as soon as I do hear anything, I’ll let you know.”
Disappointed that’s all he can tell me, I nod, and Saxon says, “That’s great, William. Thanks for contacting us. I’ll speak to you soon.”
“Will do, take care.” He hangs up.
Saxon presses a button on the phone, then looks at me. “Interesting, huh?”
“Who do you think it is?”
He shrugs. “Could be anything from a distant relation doing family research to a closer family member who’s died.”
“A family member?”
“A grandparent, honey, something like that. Maybe a grandmother or grandfather has bequeathed you something? A family heirloom?”
“I hadn’t even thought of that. I’ve never met any of my grandparents. My father was estranged from his parents and never spoke to them. I think my mother used to write to hers in Dublin, but when she died and I moved in with my dad, Greta burned all of my mother’s documents, so I don’t know their names or addresses or anything like that.”
