A Southern Star (12 page)

Lisa nodded, obviously pleased. “I know you said your parents were travelling in Australia, but they could come to stay, and you’ll love the Queenstown area, Christie…” Lisa continued talking enthusiastically about the location. “I’m going home to Arrowtown in a couple of months for a family wedding,” she said. “Why don’t we travel up together, stay a week or so? You can see the apartment, get your bearings.” Christie nodded, thanking Lisa again, taking down her friends’ e-mail address and contact details.

Chapter Six

Two months later, on a glorious January day, Lisa drove Christie along the edge of Lake Wakatipu, seeing Queenstown in the distance across the water, the huge lake glistening in the summer sun. Christie had gratefully accepted Lisa’s invitation to stay with her parents in Arrowtown, was looking forward to seeing the apartment, exploring the area.
 

Christie had spoken twice by telephone to Lisa’s friends, sent and received friendly e-mails confirming the arrangements. “They’ve travelled up to Wellington to see relatives before heading overseas,” Lisa explained now. “Anyway, they left me with the spare key, said I could show you around.”

— # —

The next day, after Christie had met Lisa’s parents and settled in, Lisa suggested they drive into Queenstown, see the apartment and have a look around the town. Filled with trepidation, Christie stepped forward into the apartment as Lisa opened the door. Tears of amazement filled Christie’s eyes as she looked around the spectacular apartment, right in central Queenstown, the expanse of Lake Wakatipu clearly visible from the huge picture window that dominated the spacious living area. She turned to Lisa, incredulous. “Really? This is the apartment?” Christie sank onto one of the sofas, crying, suddenly overcome with relief.
 

“Christie, what is it?” Lisa asked, moving quickly towards her.
 

“I was so worried,” Christie explained through her tears. “I didn’t know what I was going to do…finding somewhere to stay. Things are finally starting to work out.” Lisa nodded, obviously touched. Christie continued to explore the apartment, realising she could initially put the baby’s cot in her room, leave the second bedroom for her mother, work in the study. The apartment was perfect and in an unbelievable location; Christie realised she could easily walk with the baby along the lakeside.

She listened as Lisa explained the central heating, the security, the parking. “Better to be here in town for the winter than up in the suburbs,” Lisa said, explaining where the supermarkets were. “Easier for the letting agent to come around for dinner, too.” She grinned at Christie. Smiling back at her friend, Christie thought again how lucky she was that Lisa had arranged all this, that everything had fallen into place. Christie looked again around the apartment as they left, comparing it to the functional inner city boxes she had been enquiring about renting in Auckland, still unable to believe her good fortune.

— # —

Christie walked towards the main street of Arrowtown, looking forward to exploring the shops in the historic area, seeing the Arrow River. Lisa had gone to spend time with her father’s extended family in the lead up to the family wedding that was now only two days away. She had suggested Christie look around Arrowtown and Queenstown; although Lisa had taken her car, she had said she would keep in touch, could collect Christie later from Queenstown.

The weather was spectacular; the sky a vivid blue. As Christie reached the main street she saw the quaint pub, the perfectly preserved buildings that made Arrowtown look like an original gold rush town. She saw a shop selling nursery gear and clothing, hesitating before entering.
I need to start looking at these sorts of stores,
Christie thought to herself. Nervous without knowing why she self—consciously flicked through the racks of clothing, admiring the clothes.

Disappointed, Christie quickly realised the exquisite clothes were expensive.
I can still look,
she thought, inwardly clamping down on her sudden sadness.
And I could buy the baby one outfit, if I saw something I really liked.
She declined the shop assistant’s polite offer of help, noticing other customers entering the store. Christie looked around a final time, realising a boutique shop like this was hardly the type of store that she needed, unable to shake the feeling of being out of place as she looked around the pastel displays.

Christie left the store abruptly, continuing to window shop, stopping in front of a fine art store. The southern scenes in the window made her catch her breath; without pausing to think she went in, wanting to see the rest of the paintings. Several minutes later she returned to admire the artwork in the window display again, smiling as she saw a view of Lake Wakatipu, half aware of the same women who had been looking at baby clothes now going into the art store.

Christie looked up as she heard an older man exclaim good-naturedly. “And now they’ve gone to look at paintings! That’s it. I’m waiting in the pub with a cold beer. Then they can take as much time as they want.” An involuntary smile tugged at Christie’s mouth as she heard the typical masculine dislike of shopping. “Lead the way,” the other man with him said.

She moved around to the other window of the shop, realising this was a display of water colours rather than oils, could still hear the older man talking as he moved over to sit on a bench in the courtyard. “We’d better wait, I suppose. Blake said he’d meet us here.” Christie froze, her heart pounding.
Coincidence,
she thought, chiding herself.
I don’t need to panic every time I hear—

“Hello, Christie.” Christie looked around, instantly recognising Blake’s sardonic voice. She remained silent, her mind going blank as she registered Blake standing in front of her. Saw the casual jeans and T-shirt, his face lightly tanned from the sun. Seeing him again caused a rush of emotion to swamp her as she fought the memories. Through a massive effort of will Christie eventually managed to return his greeting casually, unable to drag her gaze away from his eyes, so dark and unreadable.

“Invited someone along to lunch, have you?” the older man enquired, as he walked over towards them. He introduced himself to Christie; with a shock she realised he was Blake’s father. She returned his greeting automatically, introducing herself, conscious only of Blake’s silence. “Couldn’t you have made more of an effort for your mother’s birthday?” Blake’s father gestured to Blake, clearly referring to Blake’s casual clothes yet unable to completely disguise his underlying gruff affection for his son.

Blake shrugged. “I’m here, aren’t I?” The older man nodded, a flash of sorrow in his eyes. Christie frowned, sensing the sadness in Blake’s father, noticing his carefully camouflaged shock at her pregnancy. Uncomfortable, she turned to Blake, searching for a polite way to explain the situation to his father and extricate herself from the assumptions that had been made. Before she could speak Blake’s father excused himself, hurried into the art shop. Belatedly, Blake introduced her to the other man lingering by the bench; Blake’s brother-in-law, Christie realised.
 

“Blake.” Christie looked up at him, certain her heart was about to break. “Your dad’s got the wrong idea—”
 

“No kidding,” Blake said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Brace yourself for my mother.” Christie repeated his name with more force, uncaring of Blake’s brother-in-law watching them both.

“You can’t let your parents think that this is your baby, that you invited me to a family birthday when…” She broke off, frustrated at his flippant attitude. She swung around as she realised that Blake’s father was back with the two women Christie had seen in the baby wear shop. She saw the tremulous expression on the older blonde woman, the anxiety in her pale blue eyes. The assessing look on the face of the younger blonde woman, her blue eyes and petite stature a mirror image of the older woman.

Christie greeted them both pleasantly as Blake’s father introduced his wife and daughter. Knowing she needed to say something, take charge, Christie took a deep breath. “I’m actually just someone Blake knows through friends,” she said, smiling at Blake’s father. “I met Blake recently on Stewart Island.” She shrugged lightly, calling on all her strength. “I’m just in Arrowtown for a week, my baby is due soon. I think I saw you both in that other shop?”

Exhausted by her speech, her heart pounding, Christie did not dare look at Blake, felt him tense next to her.
But there’s no reason for them to think we’re together,
she thought to herself.
It doesn’t make sense. Blake’s parents would know who he was dating anyway, surely he would have said something to them, rather than surprise them with an obviously pregnant girlfriend at his mother’s birthday lunch…

Clamping down on her thoughts, Christie responded to Blake’s mother’s comment about baby clothes, preparing to politely excuse herself. Blake’s father smiled at her. “Blake will need to order you juice at the winery then,” he said, shocking her. “I hope you’ll excuse us all having something a bit stronger.”
 

“After a morning of shopping, of course,” Christie replied, unable to resist the comment. She heard Blake’s brother-in-law laugh quietly.
 

Blake’s father gave her a quick grin. “I think I might need it while we all catch up with what Blake’s been up to.”

Christie glanced at Blake, realising it was still assumed he had invited her to the lunch. His complete silence chilled her. “I was just out window shopping,” she said politely. “It was lovely to meet you all. Good to see you again, Blake,” she added, almost choking with emotion.
 

“Please come to lunch, Christie,” Blake’s mother spoke quietly, insistently. Christie’s eyes widened slightly as she heard the invitation, trying to gauge Blake’s reaction, bitterly aware he still had not spoken.

“I don’t want to intrude,” she said hesitantly, trying not to think of the painfully seductive image of lunch with Blake.
 

“You won’t be,” Blake finally spoke, his impersonal, barely polite tone crushing her. “Anyway, we should probably get going, to keep our booking.”
 

Blake’s mother turned to him. “I was hoping we could walk down along the Arrow River for a few minutes before we went to lunch.” Blake said nothing.
 

“That’s a great idea,” Blake’s father spoke into the awkward silence. “Blake can change the lunch booking, can’t you, Blake?”

“Of course,” Blake spoke belatedly, took out his mobile phone. Christie walked silently with Blake’s family down towards the river, waiting for Blake to catch them up after he made the phone call. “Done.” She heard his voice as he rejoined them.
 

“Thank you, Blake,” his mother said. “It just seems like yesterday I used to come down here with you when you were small…and Rebecca too, of course. You both used to love watching the river, throwing stones…” Blake’s mother continued reminiscing, talking about the track by the river, pointing out to Blake where his favourite spot had been as a child.
 

Blake’s responses were minimal, in stark contrast to Rebecca’s laughing comments and his father’s stories of Blake and his sister when they were young. It was obvious to
 

Christie the river was a special place for the entire family, particularly his mother.
Except for Blake,
Christie thought, who seemed ill at ease, almost disinterested in his mother’s efforts to share memories with him.

Eventually, they walked back up to the main street; still stunned at the turn of events, Christie walked silently with Blake down the road, climbed in to the dusty old white ute he pointed out. “Where is lunch?” she asked eventually, wondering about Blake’s exchange with his father, noticing again his almost deliberately casual attire.
 

“At the winery,” Blake said briefly.
 

“Where you work?” Christie asked unnecessarily. He nodded once, indicated to turn into a side road and then up a steep gravel driveway.

Christie’s heart sank at Blake’s obvious impatience, wondering how lunch would go. Seeing him again had been unbelievable as anxiety, desire and regret welled up in her in equal measure.
And hurt,
she thought, thinking of his final words to her on the island. She turned to him as he parked the ute, turned the key off. The diesel engine shuddered to a stop.

Blake could see his parents parking their car across the car park, shook his head slightly, his father’s words ringing in his ears. His father, who he had always respected, wanted to please—despite everything—seeing straight through his childish action in not even bothering to put on a fresh shirt. He thought back to the unexpected phone call from his father, quietly insisting that Blake attend this lunch, book the winery.

And then seeing Christie, her clear intelligence instantly picking up on the undercurrents between him and his family. He swore quietly, shut the door of the ute with too much force. He saw Christie watching him, her face tilted, concerned. “What is it, Blake?”
 

Defeated, he managed a smile. “I’m just on edge, worried about lunch.” He stopped abruptly, appalled at his own frankness.
 

“Because of me?” he heard her say.
 

“No, it’s a family thing,” he said quietly, shocked Christie would think she was to blame, ashamed at his own behaviour. “Sorry, I’ll see you inside.” He walked ahead of her, disappearing inside without a backward glance.