She just hoped it wasn’t a repetition of last week. And that Dan wouldn’t look at her with the warmth which almost felt like caress. Because she wasn’t sure how long her resistance could last. But she knew her warning to him about her had hit its mark. She’d seen the shock in his eyes. He hated secrets, and she had them.
She hadn’t enjoyed telling him that, but she had no choice because without his restraint she didn’t know how long she could resist his attentions. And she had to, because she wasn’t the woman Dan thought he knew. She had to be more vigilant than ever because she had the uneasy sense that the careful walls she had built around herself were beginning, very slowly, to crack.
Chapter Eight
It was a rainy weekday in Wellington, and everyone was busy except Dan.
He looked out the huge window, the largest feature in the apartment he’d been renting. In front of him two blue-tinted glass towers stood, the space between them showing a peek of a muted greeny-blue harbour. Below him the central city traffic flowed along busy Lambton Quay. People scurried back and forth like ants along the pedestrian areas.
He felt like an unmoving stone in the flow of life. But he didn’t want to be unmoving anymore. Didn’t want to be misplaced. He knew now where his place was, and it wasn’t here.
There was nothing wrong with the life of those people moving back and forth, flowing as if on the whims of a current he didn’t understand and couldn’t detect. It just wasn’t one he wanted anymore. No more hurrying, no more rushing so fast that you failed to see what was right in front of you.
But he’d stopped, and he had seen, and there was no going back now. He knew his future was half-an-hour north of here, in a quaint seaside village in which he’d grown up with people who cared for each other. But it might not be with the person he’d begun to care for.
He’d thought he’d ‘got’ Augi. Thought he could trust that upright figure — a woman who even his family seemed to believe in. But it seemed she was as secretive as everyone else. And, in his experience, people only ever kept secrets which reflected badly on themselves. And he couldn’t go down that route again.
But, still, a niggling thought wouldn’t go away. Could he really bracket Augi and his ex together, joined because they both led a double life with secrets which they didn’t want discovered? One part of his mind — the part that wanted to protect him — told him that absolutely he should do this. The other part, the part he couldn’t budge with reason alone, stoically refused to allow the feelings he had for Augi to disappear. It sent a flow of unending arguments to rebut the logical part of his brain.
He shook his head in confusion and turned away from the busyness of the city centre, glancing around the small space which had been home for the past few months. His suitcases were packed and ready to go. And he’d finally sent the MacLeod’s Cottage address to the storage facility in Washington DC. As he picked up his suitcases and walked out the door for the last time, he knew that, whatever happened between him and Augi, his future lay in MacLeod’s Cove. He still might be intrigued by her but, for his own sanity, he knew he had to avoid her. His future could only include people he trusted.
As soon as Dan drove bumpily over the level crossing and entered MacLeod’s Cove the cheerful sign of the parrots on Lucy’s café building made him stop. He slid in a parallel park directly in front of the café. One of the few spaces left. At that hour of the morning, the sun shone directly onto the café, warming those patrons who sat on the outside tables, some with dogs slumped, their noses next to the water bowl, tired after a run on the beach.
In the years since Covid, more people were working from home and there certainly seemed to be a few people needing to be around others even as they studied their laptops with a concentration social media didn’t induce. They sat alongside tired mothers, with their baby finally asleep in a pushchair, and retirees and creative types. All sorts of ages and types. He liked that.
He slammed the car door shut and entered the café to pick up a cake Kate had ordered for tonight’s family dinner.
‘Hey, Dan!’ Lucy beckoned him over and he went, his eyes lingering on a particularly luscious looking savoury pie.
‘Luce,’ he greeted her, standing to one side of the queue of people who were waiting to place their orders with the other waitress. ‘What’s up?’
‘I saw Moana this morning.’
He scrunched his eyes up in puzzlement. He’d expected something pleasant and meaningless. Had he missed something? ‘Who?’
‘Moana Potare. Our cousin’—she waved her hand around—‘two or three times removed, or halved, or something. Anyway the details don’t matter, just that we’re related.’
‘First I’ve heard.’
‘Well, that’s hardly surprising, is it? When you spend half your life away from home.’
He ignored that because she was correct. There were only so many occasions when he admitted his sisters were right. ‘How are we related?’
‘I don’t know! Through Tamati, our great-grandfather I’m guessing. I remember Mum saying that he was part of a huge family. Anyway, just take it from me that we are related.’
He shrugged. ‘Fine.’ He began eyeing up the savouries again. The sausage roll looked particularly tasty. He slid open the cabinet and lowered his head to get a better look.
Lucy closed it with a slam. ‘For goodness sake, will you listen to me? I’ll get you some food in a minute.’
Dan held up his hands in surrender. ‘I’m listening, I’m listening!’ He’d forgotten how his sisters could cut up rough. He perched on a stool and folded his arms. ‘See, this is me listening.’
He was rewarded with a black look. ‘Moana Potare. She works for an employment agency in Wellington, so I told her about you.’
‘Why?’ he asked coolly.
‘Because you need a job.’
‘Says who?’
