But this time, it wasn’t having the woman that was causing the trouble. It was not having her.
“I’m going to fix it,” I told Karen. “I’m going to fix everything.”
“I should have gone,” she said, grabbing her shirt and shoes from the floor and standing up, hugging them to her. “I should go.”
“No.” I put out a hand and ran it over her neat cap of shining dark hair, then pulled her in and gave her a quick cuddle, as exasperated as I was, because it was what Hope would have done. Hope rose above. “You shouldn’t. You should keep me company, and tidy up after yourself, and learn to cook and drive and swim, and visit your girlfriend, and enjoy your first summer of being healthy. And wait for your sister to come home, so you can show her all of that and impress her.”
Karen’s brown eyes were shining now, and her voice wobbled a little as she said, “I miss her, you know? I slept with her my whole life, did she tell you that? At first it was so cool to have my own bed, and my own room, and my own bathroom, even, but . . . do you think she’s coming back?’
“I know she is.” I wasn’t sure if I was convincing Karen or myself. “She won’t leave us for long. She won’t be able to. She loves us, and your sister knows how to love.”
I had a number of conversations the next morning. First with Inez.
“I want Karen to tell you where she’s going when she leaves the house,” I told her from my spot at the kitchen counter. “I want Charles to take her, and I’d like you to ring up and . . . check. With the mum, or whoever. She had a boy over here last night, and could be his parents are working and he’s at home alone himself, and I think that’d be bad news. But be subtle,” I thought to add. “Not like you’re checking on her, eh. Just that you’re checking, because Hope isn’t here.”
She gave a sniff, pulled the milk out of the fridge, and got busy at the cappuccino machine. “You think I’m stupid? I have three daughters. Three. I know how to check on girls. Sixteen is a bad age. They think they know everything, and they know nothing.” She poured heated, milky foam over coffee with the attention of a barista, then slid the cup and saucer onto the counter in front of me and took away the empty cup sitting there. “Decaf.”
“Decaf isn’t going to do the job,” I said.
“You are too tense. Decaf is better.”
For a man who liked to be in control, I had a fair few women giving me their opinions. So I did what any wise man would do. I moved on. “And I should tell you that Hope’s gone to New Zealand for a bit to see my grandfather.”
I was taking a casual sip of coffee when Inez said, “She’s pregnant, and she’s run away.” Which may have made me choke.
“She said she just found out,” I said when I could speak again. “She said that last night. How could you possibly know?” And then I regretted it. I didn’t share information. I didn’t betray uncertainty.
Another sniff. She had a pad and pencil out, was making some sort of list. “What, you think it’s because I’m a witch? Because I have magical powers from the Mayan people? No. I know because she stopped drinking her coffee and thought it tasted strange. Because she would only eat yogurt and toast for breakfast, and if I began cooking meat, she left the kitchen. Because I have three children.”
“Pity I was the last to know,” I muttered. “Could have told me, couldn’t you.”
“It was not my business,” she said primly, and this time, I was the one who snorted.
“Karen doesn’t know,” I said. “Best let Hope share it.”
“Again,” she said, “I am not stupid. And you need to be at work, and I have many things to do here. Go.”
“Charles is meant to be giving Karen driving lessons,” I said, getting off the stool and choosing to pretend I hadn’t just been ordered out of my own kitchen. “I’d be happier if he started doing that straight away. Keep her out of trouble, eh. I’ll have a word with him today about that. And see that she cleans up after herself.”
She was still writing, and she didn’t look up. “Why do you think I allow her room to be that way? A way that hurts my head just to look at? Because it’s no good for her for others to do things for her. She has a strong mind. A strong will. She will push. You need to push back.”
“No worries. I got that.”
“And now go,” she ordered.
I looked at her and said, “Maybe I won’t. Reckon I need to push back.”
“Not with me. Me, you need. Go.”
Well, she was right about that.
My conversation with Charles was considerably shorter. When I got into the car five minutes later, I said, “I want you to drive Karen more. Wherever she wants to go. And teach her to drive. Take her to get the . . . permit, or whatever it is, and then practice with her every day.” I’d have Josh check into it and ring Karen with the details. For the LASIK surgery as well. Get that scheduled, and until then? I’d keep her busy.
“OK,” Charles said.
“You won’t be driving Hope for a bit longer,” I said.
Nothing at all for a long minute, then he asked, “She OK?”
“Yeh. But she won’t be back for a bit, so when you take Karen . . . the Y’s all good, and so is her friend’s. Mandy’s. Otherwise, check with Inez before you drop her off.”
His eyes flicked to mine in the rearview mirror. “Guys?”
“Yeh. Could be.”
He nodded, and that was that. Problem sorted. Pity nothing else today would be that easy.
Hemi
For the rest of the day, I put my head down and worked. I put out fires, I reviewed the revised marketing plans for the Paris show and the launch of the Colors of the Earth line. I focused. I dealt. And I tried not to think about Hope.
I’d told Josh first thing what to do about Karen—the driver’s license, the eye surgery—and then I’d set Karen aside. It was done, and I didn’t do worry. Except that I did. From three o’clock on, when her plane would have landed, I waited for a message from Koro, or, better yet, one from Hope. And heard nothing.
She’ll be waiting until she gets to Katikati, I told myself. You’ll hear then.
Surely I would. Because last night, on the way home from the airport, I’d arranged for flowers to be delivered to Koro’s house. Lavender roses, to be exact. I’d done what I hadn’t managed since she’d moved in with me. I’d told Hope she mattered.
Had I felt self-conscious typing the message into the box, knowing that some florist in Tauranga would be printing my words onto a card? Had I felt raw, and exposed, and much too clearly revealed? Yeh. I had. But I always did what was necessary, and I had a feeling this was necessary.
She might need me to let her go. She also needed to know that I still loved her, that I wanted her, and that I wanted our baby, too. And I needed to tell her.
The rest of it, I’d wait to tell her on the phone. I needed to hear her voice, to hear her response, and I needed her to hear mine when I told her how I felt.
I’d asked the florist to make the delivery that afternoon and had paid extra to make sure it happened. I wanted those roses on Koro’s table when Hope walked in the door. I wanted my note to be the first thing she saw. I knew she’d have to text me when she got them, because I knew my Hope.