And hearing the history. That this place was tapu, sacred and forbidden, because of the tragedy that lingered here. That once, it had been fertile and rich with human life, the Maori terracing the now-deserted hillsides in a stair-step pattern you could still see. Planting kumara, the ubiquitous sweet potato that was a staple of life, and harvesting all the bounty of the sea, the kai moana. And then, while the men were away at war, being set upon by a rival tribe. Women and children and old people killed, and others jumping to their deaths from the cliffs. The chief coming home with his men, afterwards, and finding only a few survivors who’d hidden from the slaughter. One of them had been his son, but his wife, his other children … they were all gone.
He’d gathered his men, his son, and left the islands, never to return. His joy, later in that sad journey, at finding his wife and one of his daughters, taken prisoner by the raiders and then escaping them. And still so many lost. His responsibility, and his sorrow. Declaring the islands tapu, which they still were today. No habitation, and no visitation, either, except by the birds and the boats that stayed offshore.
“Whatungarongaro te tangata, toitu te whenua,” the skipper had said, finishing the story. “People disappear from sight, but the land remains.”
“The land remains,” she told Lauren now. “I liked that.”
Lauren didn’t say anything for a minute, just looked out over the sea, though the orca were gone now. “I like it, too,” she said. “Death is hard. Change is hard. But something remains, even when we’re all gone. For Maori, what remains is the place you’re from, where your ancestors lived and died. Whenua is the earth beneath your feet, your land. Your home.”
“You’re not Maori,” Elizabeth said shyly, “but was it hard anyway, leaving here?”
Lauren smiled. Her smile was beautiful. Elizabeth had never been able to hate her, but somehow, she’d never been able to love her, either. It felt sometimes like her heart was encased in ice, like she couldn’t feel, not the way other people did. Her stepmother said, “Yes, it was. I’ve left heaps in my life. Got married, then divorced. That’s leaving, if you like. In Australia, married again to your dad, and leaving for the States, then leaving again. I’m happier back here, but I’ve still left too much. I left you, for one thing, and I’ve missed you.”
There was that sensation again, the ice. Elizabeth could feel her heart freezing over as surely as if she were watching it happen. “You were always nice,” she said. Lamely, she knew. Why couldn’t she say something more? Why wouldn’t the words fall off her tongue the way they did for other people?
She was still trying to think of what to say when Lauren said, “I know I’m not your mother. But I did my best. And I wanted to say …” She hesitated, and Elizabeth braced herself, feeling so guilty and ashamed of her cold heart. Of how Piper, especially, made her go rigid and curl into herself like a roly-poly did when you prodded it. It wasn’t Piper’s fault that Elizabeth wasn’t beautiful and charming, and she knew it, but somehow, she couldn’t help it. She knew Lauren was going to say something about that now, because it was so obvious. She should say something herself, like her dad always said. It wasn’t like Lauren could have missed it, but all the same—she couldn’t. She was frozen.
“I wanted to say,” Lauren went on, “that if you ever need somebody to talk to, I’m here. A bit far, maybe,” she added with a smile, “but at the other end of a phone line.”
Elizabeth said, “Thank you,” and couldn’t think of anything else.
“I think sometimes,” Lauren went on, “you believe that you’re not strong, or maybe even not worthy. I wonder if you realize how steadily you hold the core of yourself and refuse to let anyone chip it away.”
“I … do?”
“You don’t pretend,” Lauren said. “Most of us pretend.”
A flush. Of recognition. Of embarrassment. And, definitely, of shame. “Oh. That’s just because I can’t, though.”
“Mm. Maybe. Or maybe you know who you are, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Also, most people who’ve been through what you have would be afraid of water, and here you are, scuba diving. You’re not afraid of much, are you?”
Elizabeth wanted to say, I’m afraid of everything, though. Everything except what I can do myself, what I can control. Instead, she said, “I can’t …” and stopped.
Lauren waited, but Elizabeth didn’t go on. “You can’t …” her stepmother prodded gently.
They were both still in their wetsuits, their arms resting on the rail, their faces in the wind. Salt tang and freshness and the sun glinting on the water. For once, they were equal, just two people standing on a boat. Elizabeth said, “I can’t talk about my mom.” The words came out jerkily, like pebbles forced up through her tight throat. “It’s not like … I don’t want to. But I can’t.”
“Did your dad ever get you therapy?” Lauren asked it without looking at her, the same way she’d said most of this, but still, Elizabeth felt flayed raw, her emotions too close to the surface. It was a panicky thing to feel so much, to let the ice melt.
“No,” she said. “I was fine. I’ve always been fine.”
“Birdie. Being able to keep going isn’t the same as being fine. Excelling isn’t even the same as being fine. It can just be another way to run away.” Again, it was gentle. Elizabeth wanted to ask her to call her by her real name, but it felt nasty, after Lauren had worked so hard to give her a nice vacation, and was trying so hard now to be kind. It wasn’t her fault that it hadn’t quite worked.
Instead of answering, Elizabeth pushed off the rail and said, “I’d better go get changed. We’ll be landing soon.” And didn’t look at Lauren’s face as she went, at the disappointment she’d see there.
What does she want from me? she raged inwardly. I can’t do this! I can’t be all happy and sweet and loving like Piper! I don’t know how!
She peeled the wetsuit off and felt herself losing the cloak of invisibility along with it. Back to being too tall, too big, too not-Piper. To watching boys’ eyes slide right past her and on to Piper like she wasn’t there. Her eyes were hot and her throat tight with unshed tears, and in that unguarded, painful, unfrozen moment, she felt her mama’s arms around her, her mama’s lips brushing her hair. Felt herself holding onto her mama’s sleeve, the way she always had, so she wouldn’t go away. Hanging on tight, until she couldn’t anymore.
Ten minutes later, they landed, with Elizabeth’s insides jumbled again, chaotic. She couldn’t meet Lauren’s eyes, but she could tell she had some sadness inside, even as she chatted and smiled and got them loaded back into the car and headed back to the tiny bach on the Tutukaka Coast outside Whangarei where they’d spent Christmas. Back to the wooden deck where Piper and Lauren would do yoga together, always inviting Elizabeth to join them, upon which Elizabeth would politely decline and take a walk down to the water instead. It was peaceful there, it was calm and beautiful and spectacular at sunset, and none of this was anybody’s fault but hers.