“But when I’m with . . . with other people’s families,” she explained haltingly, “I never feel normal. I’m like a . . . a visitor, you know? People with parents, I mean,” she said, her eyes falling. “So I’m worried that they’ll be able to tell.”

  “What?” he asked gently, one arm going around her. “That you have lizard skin? What are they going to find out about you?”

  When they were actually sitting at the table over a late Saturday lunch with his parents the next weekend, though, Drew began to get a glimmer of what she had feared.

  “So, Hannah,” Helen asked, passing her the platter of lamb chops. “Where do your own parents live? They must be missing you, so far away.”

  “They’ve both passed away, I’m afraid, years ago. But I have a younger brother and sister,” she added quickly. “They both live in the San Francisco Bay area, in California. We grew up in a more rural area, though. More like this. Not quite as beautiful, though.”

  “Were you raised by grandparents, then?” Helen asked, eyebrows lifting.

  “No. My mother didn’t die until my brother was eighteen. We pretty much stayed together, though, even after that.”

  “That must have been hard to manage,” Helen commented.

  “No, it worked out well. I went to school—to University,” Hannah corrected herself, “near San Francisco, and they ended up joining me there. My brother and I went to the same University. To Berkeley. I was working there by that time, and we were able to share an apartment his first couple of years. My sister lived with us for a while as well. She wasn’t in school, but she was working. We saved money that way, too. We were lucky to be able to help each other.”

  Drew looked at her in surprise. He hadn’t realized that. But of course Hannah wouldn’t have left Matt by himself, not at eighteen. Or Kristen either. He knew already that she had gone home every summer while she had been at University, working and helping out. It made sense that after her mother had died, she would have pulled her little family together, made sure she was watching over them.

  “What did they think about your coming to En Zed, your brother and sister?” Helen asked. “It must have been hard to leave them alone, after all that.”

  Hannah looked at Drew, eyes stricken. He reached for her hand, held it reassuringly. “Mum, you’re undoing all my good work here. You don’t know what a job I had to convince her it was all right to leave them for a bit. They’re 23 and 25 now. Matt thinks he’s won the Lotto, doesn’t he. A sister in En Zed and the chance of free footy tickets.”

  “My brother’s a dedicated traveler,” Hannah explained, grateful for Drew’s interjection. “With a newfound passion for rugby, I’m afraid.”

  “And he’s not allowed to ask you for anything,” she scowled at Drew. “I told you that, remember? You haven’t promised him tickets for next season, have you?”

  He held up his hands, laughing. “I may have done,” he confessed. “You can take it up with me later.”

  “Anyway,” Drew turned back to his mother. “That’s Matt sorted. And the way Hannah talks to Kristen on the phone, she may as well never have left. They’re both coming down at Christmas, actually. So Hannah will have her family around her then. The way it should be,” he said with a meaningful look Hannah chose to ignore.

  “Sounds like you did well,” Drew’s quieter father put in. “Can’t have been easy for you. Drew tells me you have an interesting job here now,” he said, turning the conversation.

  Hannah gladly entered into a discussion of her work, grateful for his tact. “The best part is the wardrobe,” she confessed. “The products really are wonderful. I’m wearing them now. And so is Drew,” she smiled.

  “That’s right,” he agreed proudly. “Merino tee, eh, Dad.”

  “I’m glad to see that kind of success story coming out of New Zealand,” Sam said. “We don’t have a wide variety of exports, but one thing we do have is sheep. I’ve read about 2nd Hemisphere. Good on them for making a go of it.”

  “Dad’s a vet,” Drew told Hannah. “So you could say he knows sheep. Large animal as well as pets. Country vets have to do it all.”

  “Just like James Herriot,” Hannah observed with delight.

  “Not as good a writer. Or as rich,” Sam pointed out. “But the life’s not so different, for all that.”

  After lunch, Hannah stood to help clear the table, but Helen shooed her away when she would have helped with the dishes. “Sam’s my washing-up partner. Always has been. You two go on. Take Hannah for a walk, Drew. Show her about. It’s not raining, for once.”

  Drew laughed and obeyed. “You can see my mum has her opinions,” he told Hannah once they were walking on a path by the stream that ran beside the road into town. “My dad’s quieter, but when he does talk, you listen.”

  “I noticed that,” she said. “They’re both wonderful. Thank you for rescuing me, though. I was so worried that they would think I was a terrible person, leaving my brother and sister like that.” She shook her head, still upset by the conversation.

  “Hannah.” He turned her to face him. “You didn’t abandon them. You recognized that they have their own lives now, that’s all, and that you could try something new yourself.”

  “Your dad reminds me a bit of mine,” she ventured as they began to walk again. “He was quiet too. My mom was lively. Beautiful, like Kristen. A little unstable, maybe. Wrapped up in my dad. But he was different.”

  “He always called me his pal,” she said after a minute. “He’d say, ‘My pal and I are going to do some fishing today.’ Or, ‘Come help me fix the sink drain, pal.’” She swallowed. “Maybe that seems strange. But his son was little, still. And my dad and I . . . we were close, always. Right up until he died.”

  “You always say, ‘when he died,’ when you talk about him. Was it sudden, then? He wasn’t sick?” Drew probed cautiously.

  “No,” she answered soberly. “He died in a car accident. Well, no. It wasn’t exactly that. It was a hit-and-run. He liked to bicycle home from work for lunch. He was a teacher at the high school. We always wondered if it was a student. Somebody young, who just ran away, especially when he saw who he’d hit. But we never found out. He was just . . . gone.”

  “How did you hear about it?”

  “The police came. To school. They went and told my mom first, of course. It was bad, though. They asked her who else should they tell. Who else could help. She told them to come to school and get me. She didn’t have a lot of close friends. Just some people at the bank where she worked part-time.”

  He frowned. “So they came and got you to help your mother?”

  “Not exactly. First we had to get my brother and sister. They were little,” she reminded him. “Seven and nine. The police were so nice, though. They took me to the elementary school. Waited with me while I told them. Took us all home, to my mom.”

  “You told your brother and sister that your father was dead,” he said slowly. “How can that be? Wasn’t there someone else?”

  “If there was, they didn’t show up. That’s not fair, though,” she amended. “The neighbors were kind. They brought food, as soon as they heard. Women are amazing. They didn’t just bring cakes, things like that. They brought casseroles. Dishes already wrapped up, ready to be frozen, with cooking instructions. Some of them kept on bringing them, too. That was a lifesaver during those first few weeks. I could pull something out of the freezer every night. My teachers were helpful too. Some of them were wonderful, in fact. They’d take me aside. Talk to me.”

  “And after a while,” she said bracingly, “it got better. My mom got better. And I started to know what to do. How to help. Things settled down.”

  Drew was overwhelmed. He’d known it had been bad. But he hadn’t imagined it could have been like this. “Don’t they have social services, then, in the States?” he asked slowly. “Someone to help people in your situation?”

  “What do you mean? There’s foster care. But we had a mother. And we weren’t neglected. I don’t mean it to sound like that. We ate, and we went to school. We had enough money to live on. It might not have been that much fun, but we still had a family. And it got better,” she insisted again. “Especially once I got older. By the time I was 16, I had a job, and a plan. Everything was better once I had a plan. I knew what I was doing, then. I just kept following the plan.”

  “Until you came along,” she said, smiling and trying to lighten the mood. “You pretty much wrecked my plan. And could we please talk about something else now? This is too sad, and I don’t want to be sad. Tell me what I’m looking at. Tell me about growing up here, with your parents, and your brother. Did you always live in that house?”

  He wished she would let him comfort her, but was glad she had shared so much. He would back off now, he decided. Let her change the subject.

  “Yeh. My parents moved in soon after they were married, when my dad qualified as a vet and came into the practice here. They never moved. They like being a bit out of town. A bit of quiet. That’s how I come by it, I suppose.”

  “You know,” she said, “every young football player in the NFL talks about buying his mother a house with his earnings. I’m guessing it wouldn’t be too easy for you to offer something like that to your dad, though.”

  He laughed. “Like to see his face if I did. Suggesting that he couldn’t support his family. He’d have something to say about that. My parents are like me, though. A good holiday for them is a trip to the Coromandel, some fishing. I’ve shouted them some trips overseas when I’ve been playing somewhere like Ireland or France. They’ll let me send them the tickets, maybe a hotel room. Have to tread lightly, though, with my dad. Still my dad, isn’t he.”

  She nodded. “I can see that. So when did you start playing rugby?”

  “When didn’t I play rugby? Started when I was just a wee fella, kicking the ball, throwing it with my dad, like every other Kiwi boy. Started playing in a league when I was six or so. Right here in the Domain.” He pointed to the large grassy park they were passing, which indeed was outfitted with several sets of rugby crossbars.

  “That must have been touch rugby, then. They don’t have little boys tackling, do they?”

  “Touch rugby’s mostly just for fun. What you play at the beach, or during the offseason. And girls play touch rugby.”

  “Didn’t you get injured?” she asked, shocked.

  “Knocked about a bit, that’s all,” he said dismissively. “I loved it. We all did. Well, maybe I loved it more than most. By the time I was a teenager, it was my focus. I did all the usual things too. Had friends, fished, went to school. But I knew I wanted to play. So I stayed fit. Worked on my skills. Got picked up by a club when I was nineteen, and been playing professionally ever since.”

  “What will you do after you finish playing, do you think?” she asked. “I’m not saying that’s soon,” she hurried on. “But I’m sure you’ve thought about it.”

  “No worries. I’ve thought about it, yeh. Your body gets bashed up all these years, can’t help but have an effect. Reckon I’ll coach, in the end. Do a bit of that already, as captain. It seems like a logical extension.”

  “Will you go somewhere else to do that? I’ve noticed how many of the overseas players and coaches are from New Zealand.”

  “No,” he said positively. “I’ve been asked. I could make twice the money even now, playing in England or France. Not interested. Even in going to Aussie. Good thing. Be a traitor then, wouldn’t I. But nah. I’m doing all right. And I wouldn’t be happy living somewhere else. I’ve seen the world. Nice to visit, when you live someplace this small. But I’m a Kiwi. Reckon I’m lucky, spending my life in paradise. There’s a reason we call it Godzone, eh.”

  “I don’t blame you,” she agreed. “This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. And it seems . . . cohesive, I guess is the word. Everyone here seems so proud of being from New Zealand. Which makes me wonder why people do leave.”

  “Wages aren’t as good here,” he explained. “It can be hard to raise a family. You can earn more in Aussie or the UK, doing most things. Including playing football. And some people miss the opportunities you get with a bigger country, the variety. Miss the culture, want to be someplace where they can go to the opera. Not too much for that myself. I’m a pretty simple bloke. I just want to get into the bush, go fishing, camping. Auckland’s too big for me. Too busy. I’m always glad to get away from it, first chance I get.”

  “I’m beginning to understand why you don’t have much in the way of opera or art,” she said. “I’m guessing that if you ask the average New Zealand man, would you like to go to the ballet tonight? Or to the rugby game?, it’s not going to be much of a contest.”

  He laughed. “You’re right about that. Know which one I’d choose. It’s all about sport here. And being outdoors. Fishing, hunting, camping, being on the water. That’s the Maori influence on us, partly. Only Maori call themselves Tangata Whenua—people of the land. But there’s a bit of that in all of us. The land, and family. That’s what matters to New Zealanders.”

  They were in sight of the house again, and Hannah hesitated, then stopped.

  “Drew,” she said. “Could you please not share what I told you, earlier, with your parents? I suspect they’re curious about me. I don’t want them to think badly of me, that I didn’t have a normal family, that there’s something wrong with me. Even if there is,” she finished a bit forlornly, “don’t talk to them about it, OK?”

  Drew pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her, tucked her head under his chin, and stood holding her for a minute.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said at last. “You’ve done an awesome job. You’re an amazing woman. But I won’t share anything you don’t want me to. Even though my parents would think nothing but well of you, if they knew what I do.”

  She stood in his embrace, feeling the vibration of his voice as it rumbled in his chest, and something in her unwound just a bit. “OK,” she said shakily. “Thanks. I’m ready to go back inside now.”

  Chapter 27

  She wouldn’t have been reassured to know that Drew’s parents had indeed been discussing her.

  “Did you know that Drew convinced Hannah to move here?” Helen asked, handing Sam a plate to dry.

  “Nah.” He took the plate, wiped it with a tea towel. “Doesn’t confide much, does he.”

  “He’s quite protective of her, isn’t he?” she frowned.

  He chuckled. “That’s a good thing, sweetheart. There’d be something wrong with him if he didn’t try to protect her. Even from you.”

  “Me? I’m not scary,” she protested.

  Sam smiled. “I’m not so sure. Don’t know how comfortable she was.”

  “I just wish we knew her a little better. That we knew her family. That she had a family,” Helen went on slowly.

  “If I’m guessing right, we may meet her family soon enough,” he said. “Her brother and sister are coming for Christmas, eh. We’ll be lucky if Drew brings them all here, Christmas Day. We may want to make a point of inviting them.”

  “You think they’re that involved, then?”

  “We’ll have to watch and see what happens, won’t we?”

  “Do you really have to go back today, Hannah?” Helen objected as they sat over lunch the next day. “Couldn’t you wait till tomorrow and go back with Drew? You’re more than welcome, you know.”

  “I have a meeting tomorrow morning,” Hannah explained. “And I’m sure you want some time alone with your son. I’ve really appreciated having a chance to visit. It’s been a treat to meet you, and to see where Drew grew up. Get the full tour,” she smiled.

  “That didn’t take long,” Drew pointed out. “All of a few minutes. But I could drive you up early tomorrow, take you straight in to work.”

  Hannah shook her head. “You don’t have that much time to relax. This way you can stay as long as you like. I’m sure you have people you’d like to visit. Besides, I’ve been wanting to take the train. It’ll be fun, and it’ll put me down at Britomart this evening, right next to the bus stop.”

  “No,” Drew said firmly. “Take a taxi home. It’ll be dark by then.”

  “Hannah,” he continued, exasperated, as she prepared to argue. “If you don’t promise to take a taxi, I’ll leave now and take you back myself.”

  “All right.” She threw up her hands. “I promise. Man, you’re bossy. Has he always been this way?” she asked Helen.

  His mother laughed. “That’s Drew. Doesn’t talk much, but he’s used to being in charge. You’d have to be a saint. Or stubborn yourself.”

  “No worries, Mum,” Drew said wryly. “Hannah doesn’t give in too easily. I’ve lost more battles than I’ve won. You’ll notice she’s still leaving today.”

  “Women have a way of doing that,” Sam agreed. “You think you’ve won, and then you turn around and find you’re doing what they want, aren’t you.”

  His wife just laughed. “We’ve been married 32 years,” she explained to Hannah. “He thinks he can get away with that.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Hannah answered. “You’re very fortunate.”

  “And now,” she said, getting to her feet, “I really do need to get ready to leave, or I’ll miss my train.”

  “You can just drop me at the station,” she suggested as Drew drove her the short distance to the center of town. “I have my ticket already, so I’m all set.”

  “Why would I do that?” he objected. “Why wouldn’t I take you for a coffee while you wait for your train, see you onto it?”

  “Because I saw the sign at the entrance to town,” she pointed out. “The one that says ‘Welcome to Te Kuiti—Birthplace of Drew Callahan.’ Not to mention the giant Number 6 jersey that, you will notice, is right . . . over . . . there,” she motioned, “hanging up next to the railway station, where we happen to be going. Why not say goodbye to me here, go back to your parents’ house and enjoy yourself, instead of getting involved in all that?”